Speaking in Riddles
by LeoGryffin
Summary: Hermione returns as Headmistress, seven years after she and Severus have ended their affair. Surprise...her baggage includes his son and a potions accident that has made her deaf. Add Voldemort's return for fireworks. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This WIKTT Challenge response is based on the backstory found in my previous fic _Serving Justice_. While the story can be followed without first reading _Serving Justice_, I'd strongly advise reading it first to understand the Spirit and the relationships between some of the characters.

This is an Alternate Universe in which the character that dies in Order of the Phoenix lives on. Rowling might have been able to kill the character off, but I just can't. 

Disclaimer: I in no way own these characters; the Goddess J.K. Rowling invented them. I'm just playing with them. Also disclaiming: Various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Speaking in Riddles 

Chapter 1 

A figure in black robes crouched low in the hallway of the Hogwarts dungeons, surveying the situation that had unfolded over the last hour.

A potion that he had been working on had mysteriously begun to smoke, and no charm he could muster as he retreated from the room had seemed to contain the acrid fumes. He was forced out into the hall, where he could contain the damage and wait out the natural aeration of the room to clear things enough for him to enter.

There was no doubt of what had gone wrong. He had become distracted, and had added too much suspension of eye of fire newt in the final step that normally made the Wolfsbane take on the characteristics of a liquid rather than a nearly-solid form.

Now he would have to start over. It was a good thing that Lupin insisted on having a month's worth stored in advance; it was quite possible that Severus Snape would not have this batch done in time.

It wasn't the first time this summer that he had made a mistake in his potions work. _I must be getting old,_ he thought wryly, as surveyed his still-shaking hands. He knew that wasn't really the case, as the average wizard lived many more years than Muggles were accustomed to, and he really was just entering the prime of his life at age fifty. No, the issue that was causing his distraction was the keenly-felt absence of his mentor and friend, Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sat down with him at the end of the spring term and gently informed him that both he and Minerva were retiring, presumably to some nice little cottage by the sea to live out the rest of their days together. It had never been common knowledge that the two of them planned a happily ever after, so naturally, most of the staff weren't the least bit surprised. It was revolting, of course, but what did one expect of a staff so sickeningly comprised of Gryffindors?

His next words were about Minerva's replacement. If it were possible, his mood could not have become any darker after that announcement. His very hated adversary from childhood, Sirius Black, was to become the new Transfiguration professor. Remus Lupin, who had stayed on at Hogwarts these past ten years as Defense professor, would become Head of Gryffindor.

Lastly, before Snape could escape or get a word in edgewise, he was informed that he was being promoted to Associate Headmaster and that there was simply no way he could turn it down. Disgusting to have to take on more responsibility at this school when all he really wanted to do was retire and be done with it. He had stayed because Albus wanted him there. Now, he had a perfect out. But Albus had requested that he stay at least one more year to assist the new Headmaster, whoever that would be, in making a graceful transition. He owed the old man that, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

Turning his thoughts back to Lupin and Black, he realized that half of his foul temper was the appalling efforts by those rejects from society to plague him at every turn with their cheerful Gryffindor attempts to include him in every bloody thing they did. He was no Marauder, and would never pretend otherwise. Did Gryffindors ever grow up? He supposed not, considering the ridiculous recent exploits of Potter and the many Weasleys. The only remotely palatable one of that bunch was Charlie, who was now the Care of Magical Creatures professor after Hagrid's early retirement in that role to go live in France with his new wife, Madame Maxime. He could appreciate and respect Charlie, if only because he was serious and quiet and kept to himself rather than engaging in that pesky ritual that seemed endemic to the entire Gryffindor lot of the staff – Trying to Redeem or at Least Cheer Up Severus Snape.

The worst one of that foul group had been Hermione. At the sudden pang of remembrance, the usual shame and anger and pain welled up inside. _I won't think about it. I was a bastard, she has done the right thing by never contacting me again, end of story._

But, sadly, he couldn't help but indulge in introspection as he watched the tendrils of smoke writhe around his door.

*~*

Ten years before, he and Hermione had been through quite an trial together, and as a result of their closeness during the ordeal, had fallen in love. Certainly, they'd both had the best of intentions as they began their affair. She was his graduate student as well as his lover, and when she officially was given the title of Potions Mistress by the Ministry, no one had been prouder than he.

The problem for them was never love. The lovemaking was fantastic and frequent, the company was stimulating, and she was simply magnificent. Of course, she would be; she was a witch of the Order of Benevolent Light, and it was nearly impossible to resist a woman of that standing.

He had really known all along that it had been too good to be true. But of course, their relationship's end was all his doing. He would never, ever, pin this on her, though he was sure at the time that she felt it was her fault. Better to leave her hating him, than to open the door again.

He had not been loved as a child. It was one of the reasons he had identified so strongly with Draco Malfoy, really, and had tried so hard to redeem him. He and Draco suffered from the same difficulties; they certainly had the capacity to desire to love another, but not the ability to truly lay themselves bare before another human being. Intimacy was simply too difficult. There was always a part hidden from the other, which tended to have relationship-ending consequences.

The crux of the problem between Severus and Hermione had been his inability to really, truly let her in. She was more than open, and more than willing, and he knew he could have trusted her completely. But he was poorly conditioned to do so. It was impossible, and over time, he realized that. 

Of course, she would never have let him go over this. Her innate Gryffindor sensibilities insisted that he would be redeemed, and made whole, and that she would accomplish this task for him.

He refused to allow this. A plan was formulated in his mind before she even accepted the job offer to the Manhattan Public School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as their Potions Mistress.

It won't be a problem at all, she had said quite breezily. We'll be together every weekend. I'll come to England every other weekend, and you can come to New York on opposite weekends. I see this as a temporary opportunity, anyway; I'll get some experience, and hopefully head back to Europe in a couple of years. You'll see. We never would see each other during the week anyway, even if I was in London working at the Ministry.

He had acknowledged that in the best of worlds, she was quite right. But this was the opportunity he had sought to let her go. He could no longer hold her and her Spirit back with his crippling difficulty with loving her enough. He would have to hurt her, but it would be better for her this way.

He came to her in New York shortly after she began teaching to end it. She gleefully played the Muggle tourist with him, taking him to the World Trade Center memorial, Lincoln Center, Times Square, and Rockefeller Center before taking him to the top of the Empire State Building. Her school was almost directly below the Empire State Building, in an abandoned subway line that ran more or less parallel to the Orange Line but a block away. It hadn't been used by Muggles since the 1940s, when then-President Franklin D. Roosevelt quietly set aside a few secret places in major American metropolitan areas to become public schools of magic. His wife, Eleanor, was a powerful witch whose pet project was to provide magical education for all, not just those who could afford the Big Four private academies of magic in the United States. Naturally, their amazing achievement was not recorded in the Muggle history books when children learned about the WPA and the CCC, but the MPEA (Magical Public Educational Authority) was still going strong over sixty years later.

Her walkup was located just around the corner from the School, at 32nd and Fifth Avenue. She lived above a Korean grocery and a cybercafe, and was already deeply immersed in learning the Korean language from a neighbor to help grow accustomed to the cuisine and atmosphere of the area. She chattered amiably in Severus' direction as she prepared a simple Korean dish that she had just learned from her neighbor. After they finished the meal, he decided it was time.

he began.

She looked him square in the eye. Don't even say it. The Spirit is perfectly aware of what you're about to do.

He was taken aback, but of course he should have expected that her ruddy Spirit would try and get in the way of his grand plans. I have to do it, Hermione. We have to finish this, here, and now. You're young and ready to start a new life. I'm an old idiot who cannot give you even a tenth of what you need, what you want. I don't want children, I don't want a white picket fence. I can't share my past, and I'm not even very good at sharing my present.

You love me. It wasn't a question.

Yes. But it's not enough.

It is for me.

I'm not giving you a choice in the matter. It's over. He stood, feeling that he better simply leave before she had a chance to talk him out of what he knew he had to do.

she whispered. If this is really what you want, and I'm qualifying that strongly: what YOU want, then I will let you go. I have no wish to keep you against your will and I suspect you think the Spirit is hanging on to you rather than me. Even though I know that's not true, and this is being done against my wishes, I will let you go without even a fight.

He didn't expect this, and part of him suddenly wanted her to fight. Damn her, anyway, for proving him right. Love really wasn't enough. He'd known it all along, but it didn't hurt any less right now.

She closed her eyes, and continued her request. Stay here tonight. Just one more night, Severus, and I can let you go.

He knew it was a bad idea. But looking at her face, the face that he loved more than his own life, he made a choice. He took her into his arms, and kissed her. She responded with a fire that they had not had since their very first coupling nearly three years prior. Their passion that night was as intense of a shared experience as either had ever had. Strangely, it didn't weaken his resolve as he was sure she would think it might. He left her lying in bed in the wee hours, and never looked back as he walked out the door. 

He had never known the rest of what transpired that night. She never moved, but she had been awake when he left. She fervently hoped that her Spirit knew what it was doing. She had been granted patience along with the Gift, but she knew it would be a long time before she saw Severus Snape again. Even she wasn't aware of how long it would be.

*~*

The smoke seemed to be subsiding during the ruminations of a broken, old, bitter man. She had, in fits of weakness, tried to contact him over the years. He'd sent the letters back unread, so she would know perfectly that he wasn't interested in hearing from her. He knew she saw Narcissa fairly frequently. Draco never quite gave up twisting the knife in an extremely Slytherin way, discussing the fact that Hermione had been out to the Manor or Narcissa and Draco had gone for a weekend in New York and visited. That was another ridiculous thing about Hermione that screamed in a loud voice. She'd forgiven her rapist. Sure, he had been acting under Imperius, but please. She was too perfect and good. Just another indicator that he had done the right thing seven years ago.

Draco always wanted to tell him just a little more, but Severus stopped him cold. Really, everyone always seemed to have juicy news about Hermione on their lips for him, but he wouldn't hear it and would simply leave the room if the subject came up. Gradually, most of his associates completely stopped talking about her around him, which suited him fine.

Remus Lupin said, staring down at the dour Potions Master sitting outside the door of the Potions classroom.

I'm afraid you'll have to take the backup potion this month, Lupin. I've botched the fresh batch very badly.

Well, that's why we have a reserve, right? I'll help you clean up in there.

Severus nodded, suddenly welcoming that Gryffindor spirit still evident in Lupin. They still weren't exactly friends, but they had a decent relationship and often collaborated. Lupin was the only other professor left at the school now from Hermione's time. Everyone else had retired or moved on to other positions. Albus had mostly insisted on hiring very young talent for the positions that became vacant; the youngest professor of all was Neville Longbottom, teaching Herbology. There were a few others who had been in school around the same time, like Cho Chang. She had taken over Madam Hooch's position as Flying instructor and Quidditch advisor.

They worked in companionable silence for a while. At length, Remus said conversationally, So, have you spoken to your new boss yet?

No. I haven't seen him yet.

Remus frowned. Her. The Headmistress. Boy, you really have isolated yourself, haven't you? She's been all the talk in the staff room since she was announced.

I suppose that idiot Dumbledore got Madame Maxime as per his original plan.

No, it's not Madame Maxime. Remus felt panicked. Could Albus have really been so low as to not tell Snape the identity of the woman he would be reporting to? Talk about beating a Slytherin at his own game.

I don't want to even know, Snape said dismissively. I'll be up to my ears in it soon enough. One more year, and I'll be free. I don't care who it is, they'll wish that Albus Dumbledore was burning in hell by the end of a year with me.

I don't doubt that, muttered Remus. I guess it's not my place to talk about it, anyway. You know I was never one for gossip.

One of your only charming attributes. I'll be at dinner against my better judgment, so I can deal with this travesty then.

I can hear a dismissal a mile away, from you. I'll see you later, Severus. As the door closed behind him, Remus finally let out the breath he had been holding. This was going to be really, really explosive, and he wanted to make sure his old pal Sirius didn't miss it. They'd have a lot of pieces to pick up, and he wasn't sure if they'd be able to sort it all out if they weren't in on it together. Probably best to owl Narcissa to come by for dinner too, while he was at it.

Snape grumbled as he began re-doing the base for the Wolfsbane again in a new cauldron. The door opened again. He didn't look up.

Professor Snape, an Irish voice he'd not ever forget said. We have business to discuss.

He wheeled around. Mother Superior. To what do I owe this unlikely honour? Frankly, he was amazed that the Muggle nun was even still alive. 

May I? she indicated an unused chair. 

he said, have a seat. Tea? She missed the sarcasm dripping off his words, or perhaps chose to ignore it. You've missed Albus, I'm afraid. He's retired.

I know all about Albus. I've come to talk about you.

I cannot possibly fathom what business you and I have.

Oh? Not an idea, eh? Well I'll come to the point, then. You are the most worthless Protector and Companion I've seen in all my years. How could you leave her like that? When she needed you the most, you left her cold. No wonder women from your world are always running to me for protection!

He goggled at the impertinence of the ancient woman. I trust you have a reason to be here, calling me names, in my classroom; it's been seven years since I've seen her, and I don't plan on ever seeing her again. She's most certainly doing just fine without me in her life.

she said dryly, I believe you'll be seeing her sooner than you think. My dear boy, I don't know why her little piece of the Spirit chose someone so unworthy and arrogant to be her life partner. But, nevertheless, She did, and you have shirked your duties to Her and Hermione long enough. I've come to warn you to get your priorities straight and start loving that girl properly before you regret it. The two of you share something enormously special – a once in a lifetime gift, and if you don't care for that gift properly you'll find that your life may not be worth living.

he said tiredly, not wishing to fight for a change. I do love her. I'm simply not what she needed. The Spirit made a mistake in choosing me. I've lived in a world of unholy and daily penance for what could have been ever since, but I did the right thing by releasing her. I don't expect you to understand.

I'd tend to agree that you aren't the right thing, if I didn't know that God wasn't in the business of making that kind of mistake. I promise you, son, I never thought I'd be doing thisactually forcing the issue between you two, but I must. It's not just your life or her life at stake in this. You'll soon have a chance to rectify your idiotic actions in leaving her. Do the right thing. If you need me, owls can find me in Ireland. With all that cryptic nonsense, she stalked out of the room.

Snape stared at the floor for a minute, flabbergasted at the old woman's impertinence. How dare she come here to open old, painful wounds and not offer one concrete piece of information to him? What was this bunch of nonsense about doing the right thing and God and other tripe? He would not have an occasion to see Hermione Granger again, and the world was better for it.

He hadn't time to continue on with the Wolfsbane for the night. It was nearly time for dinner.

*~*

Severus just had time to pull on his leather vest and best robes before rushing to the Staff Room for dinner. He'd taken to wearing leather in the summer just to get under Cho Chang's skin. She was an avowed animal-rights activist these days, and he liked to keep the girl off balance. A man had to have his little pleasures sometimes, and Severus's always seemed to revolve around making other people upset or uncomfortable.

Before he got to the Staff Room, he ran into Sirius and Lupin, skulking outside the doors. What in blazes are the two of you up to?

Narcissa is joining us tonight, we're just waiting for her. At the sound of her name, Narcissa appeared as if on cue. All three of you lovely gentlemen, then? I'm a lucky woman

Narcissa really, really looked great these days. Snape could remember a time when she was so fragile and drunk all the time that she looked many years older than her true age. She'd taken to spending many evenings with Lupin, which seemed to agree with her well.

After being married to Malfoy, anything was an improvement, Severus thought. Even that idiot git Lupin. At first he'd had a few uncharitable thoughts about Lupin's involvement with Narcissa, often muttering to himself, Money changes everything. But Lupin never showed a sign of wanting to actually marry her for her money, and he was still as shabby and disheveled as ever most of the time. Gryffindors. Who could fathom them?

The four of them entered the room together, and were greeted by the other teachers who were already in attendance. Miss Chang regarded Severus with a snort of disgust, and stalked to the farthest end of the table. He smirked at her, noting grimly to himself that her only virtue was that she was a Ravenclaw. His eyes flicked up and down the table, but he didn't see the new Headmistress anywhere. Satisfied, he sat down next to Lupin and grabbed a goblet of water.

The door opened, and his eyes registered a sight that nearly caused him to faint.

Hermione Granger.

Everyone's eyes seemed to be following a tennis match, watching the two of them regard one another silently for a moment. Then she entered the room, and sat down across the table from Snape. She motioned to someone behind her to enter the room.

It was a child. The little boy walked in behind Hermione, and sat beside her, looking shyly around at all the adults. Cho and the Charms teacher, Fleur Delacour, immediately winked at the little boy and there were smiles all around.

Snape was outraged. He knew that Black and Lupin and – _everyone_ – had known that Hermione would be here. And with a child! Why had no one mentioned this before now?

Of course, he knew the answer, but he hated to admit it. Many had tried to talk to him about her, but all had failed. He had closed himself off and had purposely wanted no idea what had happened in her life.

He kept waiting for the adoring husband to walk in, the father of this little boy, the man who would be making her happy instead of him. But the door was closed.

No one had spoken. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way that Severus had expected.

My name is James, the little boy said, looking right at Severus. I know everyone else here, especially Uncle Remus and Uncle Sirius and Auntie Narcissa. But I don't know you.

Impertinent little boy. He looked again at Hermione, who only had a small smile and said nothing. 

Well, go on there, Snape. Tell the boy your name. This from a highly amused Sirius Black. He noted that Lupin didn't look so amused, and had a lot of unsaid information hanging in his eyes. Blast that idiot for not forcing the issue and telling him about this earlier. Someone had mentioned in passing several years ago that she had been made the associate principal at her school. This really was a natural progression for her, but blast Albus Dumbledore for perpetrating this one final heinous act on him!

Hello James, Severus said, defeated and noting that she named the boy after Potter's father. Could Harry be the boy's father? I'm Severus. It is veryto meet you.

said the boy, I know all about you. You're Mum's Companion. No trace of malice in the boy's words, but Severus was thrown off balance and looked helplessly around at all the faces staring at them. 

He became increasingly angry that she had not sought him out before this, for a more private warning. Every single teacher at Hogwarts was watching this debacle, and there was no escape. And why hadn't Hermione said a word to put him out of his misery now?

Indeed. James, how do you like it here so far? He was trying to make idle conversation, hoping everyone would stop gaping and get on with the meal. 

It's very nice, very different than my home in the city. Nearly Headless Nick is the coolest ghost I've ever met. Can we eat yet? he said, pointing to his plate. The boy looked at his mother with dark eyes not all that different than her own, and she nodded. Then, something extraordinary happened.

The boy began waving his hands most animatedly in her direction. Then she appeared to answer him in kind. Sign language.

With dawning shock, he realized that she must be deaf. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her exchange with her son, now. Everyone else in the room finally decided that it might be prudent to look away from the abject look of pain on Severus's face as he watched the scene unfold. 

He couldn't understand why, or how, she could be deaf. There were plenty of magical cures for that particular malady. He knew no deaf wizards or witches, mainly because a simple spell could restore hearing. What had happened? He was starting to feel that old familiar shame, at not having read her owls, not having answered her in her time of need. He quelled a sudden desire to pick up where they left off, to take her in his arms and carry her down to the dungeons and make passionate love to her. He supposed the proximity of her Spirit was having that effect on him. At least he knew why the old bat had come to see him earlier.

Lupin leaned over, and said, I think no one would object if you stole them away for a minute and had a private conversation. It might be a good time

I'll thank you to stay out of my life, Lupin.

She was looking at him again, and her look of amusement had turned to sadness. She signed a few words to her son, who looked again at Severus. She says it would be all right if I called you 

Time stood still for a second, as his brain processed what the boy had just said. No, no, life couldn't be this cruel. He stood up, his eyes never leaving the boy's, and said, I'm sorry, young James, I must leave for the night. I will certainly see you soon. He didn't want to traumatize the boy, but this had gone far enough. He started for the door, but on his way out, he stumbled and to his horror, lost his footing and fell. Strong and gentle arms caught him, and he turned to look up into her eyes. He didn't trust himself to speak as he got up and fled the room.

~*~

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I've gotten so many requests for a next chapter that I wrote a quick one... thanks SO MUCH for the positive reviews! This contains the explanations; more chapters to come involving more of the primal forces at work here. It's not all going to be angst, I promise, and there are more surprising twists and turns in store.

PLEASE NOTE: Hermione CAN speak. She is unsure of herself and embarrassed, so she chooses not to. You'll see how she overcomes this later. Please review, but read to the end before you do...all will be made clear!  


If you haven't read the backstory, Serving Justice, I highly recommend that you do so now.

*~*~*~*

"James, darling, do you want to come visit Draco and me out at the manor?" Narcissa said, ruffling the tyke's hair. "We'll go fishing and all the fun things. What do you say?"

"Will Uncle Remus be there?"

"Of course, James," Remus said. 

"May I go, Mother?" Hermione nodded, signing her acceptance with a grateful smile in Narcissa's direction.

"Then it's settled. Let's be off, my young man." Remus took Narcissa's arm and Hermione's son's hand, and after Hermione placed a kiss on James's cheek, took the boy safely away from the firestorm that surely was about to happen. Remus was quite worried about leaving this mess behind, no doubts about that, but it was best to give the two erstwhile lovers the space they'd need to deal with the fallout.

He wasn't so much worried about Hermione, to be frank. Severus was a much bigger problem. His refusal to hear anything about Hermione over the years would surely be hitting the old bastard quite hard right now. 

After James had gone with his adoptive aunt and uncle, Hermione decided there was no time like the present to bring her former lover up to speed. They couldn't run from each other now, and she'd known when she accepted the appointment at Hogwarts against her better judgment that this awful day would come. She was quite prepared to be detached, clinical, and professional in demeanor as she explained how it was that she had kept such intense secrets from him. She wasn't about to show any weakness.

_Besides,_ she thought wryly, _it's not like his sarcasm can affect me anymore. I can't hear it._

She took the familiar path down into the dungeons, clutching several unread, unanswered letters for him to read. It would be easier than dragging Dobby downstairs to interpret for her as she told the story. 

Dobby had gone to live with Hermione after she had informed Dumbledore of the pregnancy. Not only had he been a great help to her as she raised her baby son, but they had learned to sign together so that he could be her interpreter, which had allowed her to continue unhindered in her professional career. She rarely taught after the accident, of course, because Dobby was…well, he was not the most easily understood house-elf in the pack. But she happily paid him good wages and gave him Sundays off, and that was all that really mattered to him. She had been put in administration after the accident; Dobby's assistance had served her well in that role.

He had kept her secrets, and watched her cry her heart out, and done his part to keep her sanity intact. It was nearly impossible to remember a time when the little fellow actually belonged to Lucius Malfoy.

Her Spirit clucked in her direction as Headmistress Granger stood outside Professor Snape's door, faltering as she tried to come up with the right course of action at this moment. It had seemed so simple from a distance, but now she was truly faced with him. She tried to put on a mask of steel, and knocked.

The door flew open as if he had been standing there with a hand on the knob. He gestured towards the right chair in front of the fireplace and stalked over to the left himself with his hands running through his hair.

She handed him the parchments from years past, and sat back, staring carefully at a spot on the floor. She knew him well enough to know how much guilt and pain this act was about to cause him. She hoped she could help him through it somehow, even as a tiny part of her thought that maybe he deserved it, just a little bit.

November 22, 2002 

_It has now been two months since the last time we saw each other. Just for the record, I haven't stopped loving you. It would be nice to not bear that burden anymore, but I can't seem to overcome._

_I have some news to share. I know it won't make you happy; as you so eloquently said as you slagged me off, you're not looking for picket fences in life. Be that as it may, you've given me a gift. I am expecting a child._

_He or she will join the world in June. I don't expect you to come running to New York for my hand in marriage; I don't expect financial support. Frankly, I don't expect you to even claim this child. While I confess it would be lovely if you exceeded my expectations, I wouldn't dream of even considering that it might be likely._

_I have all the help I need. The ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt has been haunting my office lately – did you know she was a fine Potions Mistress in her day? It's incredible how much the English magical history texts leave out. She comes home with me on occasion for girl talk. I relish her company, as it keeps me from just sitting here talking to myself._

_I leave the door open to you in case you suddenly find paternal instincts. I won't be holding my breath, of course._

_I suppose I sound a little bitter, but you probably don't have any idea how much my heart broke the day you left. The Spirit bubbles to me that I should come after you and force you back into my life, but I'm simply not a groveler._

_I will of course inform you of the baby's birth statistics for your records._

_Hermione_

He looked up at her, and felt a lump in his throat. This letter was just like that woman from the past, with a dose of wounded pride and practical self-preservation. He wondered if she was the same person inside today.

She hadn't stopped staring at the floor. He picked up the next parchment.

_June 6, 2003_

_Dear Severus,_

_I am pleased to announce the birth of our son, James Severus Granger. He was born June 5 at the Spirit Birthing Center in Murray Hill, not too far from my place. I thought that was an appropriate choice given the name of the establishment. Eleanor was there with me when he was born, and it was she that suggested James as a strong first name. Naturally, Harry is going to be tickled._

_Everything is fine with the baby. He seems to have my eyes and your hair. I'm not sure whether that's really a bargain for him. _

_Giving birth to this child was the most miraculous experience ever. Half the time I cursed you in my pain (much to Eleanor's mirth and delight), but after he entered the world and looked at me for the first time, I fell in love with you all over again. I confess that this is a moment of weakness. I wish you were here, holding your infant son. As I nurse him, I can see you in him, especially when he closes his eyes to drift off to sleep. I know this entire letter is quite nauseating…I can see your reaction now._

_Considering that you returned my last letter unread, I am not sure if this will penetrate Fortress Snape, but I've done my duty. If indeed you are weak and read this as well, you're quite welcome to visit us in the City. We've moved into a slightly larger flat closer to Madison Avenue and 33rd, but still in the same neighborhood. At some point when the tyke starts to wish to play outside, I think we'll move to Brooklyn. We'll make sure that we don't get a place with a white picket fence._

_With love and gratitude for what you've given me,_

_Hermione_

He was beginning to feel sick and wasn't sure if he should continue. His old friends, Guilt and Shame, were sitting on his shoulders cackling at him for being a total prat for seven long years. His best friend Anger sat in his lap, telling him that he should be extremely upset with all their friends and with her for keeping the truth from him and confronting him with a six-year old child so long after the fact. His well-worn acquaintance Regret tapped him on the arm, reminding him that he was the one who had chosen this path and stubbornly clung to it when confronted with multiple opportunities to change things.

The next one. A picture fell out of this letter, showing a chubby, waving baby of about a year in age gurgling contentedly.

_May 3, 2004_

_Dear Severus,_

_I don't know why I'm bothering to write this as I know you'll just return it unread, but for my own conscience it seems necessary. Besides, the Spirit grows ever restless in the search for Her Companion; She knows my reasons for not confronting you, but that doesn't mean that she makes it easy for me. If it wasn't for the baby, Dobby, and Eleanor, I'd have gone quite mad._

_James turns one next month. He is a joy and delight and quite precocious. I have a sneaking suspicion that you'd be proud of him, despite yourself. I've enclosed a photo._

_You're invited to his birthday party. If you are so inclined, just contact me and I'll give you directions to the new place in Brooklyn Heights._

_I hope you are well. I haven't stopped thinking about you daily; the Spirit sees to it, unfortunately._

Hermione 

He wasn't sure how much more of this utterly dreadful trip down What Could Have Been Lane he could take, but a look at her made him realize that he had to finish the whole bloody exercise before she'd be gone. Once again, he was stifling an urge to take her in his arms and kiss the pain away. He stubbornly put on the cloak of Unfeeling Old Bastard, and pressed on.

October 1, 2005 

_Dear Severus,_

_Remember Neville Longbottom?_

_I had a student that was very similar to Neville in my class this term. Sadly, instead of taking your approach of being horrible to and hard on him, I gave him extra time to complete assignments, extra assistance after class, and generally was sickeningly Gryffindor about him. I learned nothing from you after all, I guess._

_Six days ago, I had the boy after class working on a simple auditory enhancement potion that he had mangled in class. I sat at my desk marking papers as he worked in silence._

_Before I knew what was happening, the boy's cauldron exploded. I cannot imagine what ingredient he would have had to have added to make that happen._

_At any rate, the boy died in the explosion. I lived, of course, but I have a permanent hearing impairment. His potion apparently had the opposite effect that was intended. No one can seem to reverse the effects of this potion, either by foolish wand waving or potions or Muggle medicine. The nerves from my ears to my auditory processing center are apparently completely destroyed, as if they never existed._

_Eleanor tries to help me see that things sometimes just happen, and there is nothing you can do to change or stop it. I don't know how true that is. That gets me thinking about destiny and fate, and then I get a headache. It's never all that good to have ghosts around when you wish to be down on yourself._

_Somehow, I was absolved of responsibility in the matter in the official inquiry. I can't help but feel that if I were supervising the boy rather than using his time to mark papers, this would not have happened. I feel so alone. I'm certain my student's parents are feeling much the same way._

_I'll never hear my sweet child's voice again._

_I know you won't read this given past indications, but I needed to get this all out on paper. I miss you and wish that you and I weren't so stubborn._

_Hermione_

Now, the wheels were turning in his head. He refused to believe there was no way to counteract the effects of that potion. American Potions Masters were notoriously short-sighted and gave up too easily, and don't get him started on Muggle doctors.

He looked at her again and saw that she could see his train of thought. She shook her head sadly at him. Naturally, she would have worked on a cure herself. Still, this gave him some vague redemption to hope for. 

He didn't pause to consider that apparently all these years in the company of Gryffindors was turning him into one. He tried to tell himself that he wouldn't be doing it out of kindness, but because he would need a challenge to avoid the reality of dealing with a six-year old child calling him Daddy. On that queasy note, he continued. 

January 8, 2009 

_I haven't written you in several long years, mainly because I know it's rather pointless._

_I just wanted to let you know that Dumbledore has offered me his former position. I haven't decided whether to accept it. _

_I've been happy here in New York. My house-elf, Dobby – you remember him, don't you? – has been a wonderful companion and interpreter for me. Our brilliant son has done well here and is just full of the Spirit. I've been haunted by the ghost of one of the more outstanding, self-assured women in history, and I think I'm the better for it. But, I confess a longing for my home in England. I visit there now and again, as I'm sure you must know. I stay with Harry in London, the Weasleys, and Narcissa and Draco on a fairly frequent basis. They tell me you refuse to speak of me or hear of me, so I guess they've kept my secrets well._

_Draco and Harry would love nothing more for me to return, so they can have their little Spirit-brother around. They've been so good with him, and have given him something that was missing from both of their childhoods…adoring male father figures who want nothing from him but happiness. Ironic, isn't it, that the boy has so many adult males caring for him deeply and yet I've kept his own father from him. I've been so foolish, and I hope one day you'll forgive my deception, for his sake._

_I know that if I accept the position, this whole situation will come crashing down around us. I know you'll blame me outwardly while cursing yourself inwardly. I know you so well, even though I haven't seen you in seven years. _

_Severus, I want you to not beat yourself up. I could have dragged our child to Hogwarts and beat down your door till you accepted him. I could have come to you at any time, but I refused to manipulate the situation. You return my owls unread, and refuse to speak of me to our friends. I would not have you return to me out of pity or shame. I've managed to live the last seven years without you, and while I confess the Spirit doesn't share my views and seems to live to make me bitter, I would go on the rest of my life without you if it was what you wanted. Notice that I'm qualifying that. I haven't allowed myself the luxury to think about what I would want._

__

_However, just for the record. I still love you with all my heart. I've been furious with you, sad for you, sad for myself, and a whole host of other emotions over the years. But I've never been able to bring myself to love someone else – God knows that men have tried, but the Spirit won't stand for it. And, I suppose, I won't either. As someone once said, you can't take love off and on like socks._

_I feel certain we'll be seeing each other this year. I hope it won't be too much of a shock for you._

_Love, Hermione_

He put down the final parchment, and looked at her again, really seeing her for the first time since she returned. He cleared his throat, but wasn't sure what to say. The words came almost unbidden to his lips.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

She nodded in understanding. Really, she supposed, this was better than she could have hoped for. An admission of regret on his part was an extraordinary occasion, so she understood that it was heartfelt.

"I confess it will take me some time to get used to this, but I am very curiously not as upset as I should be. Besides, you did try to tell me, and I foolishly refused to listen. I am intrigued. Another living Child of the Order, and one that deserves a proper upbringing, is something to not take lightly. I'm beginning to understand much of that Irish bat's dialogue with me this morning."

Hermione's eyes opened wide. She took out a notebook, and scribbled:

_The Mother Superior? She was here?_

"Oh yes, calling me all kinds of names, most of which were deserved. But she did remind me of my responsibility, which I have too long shirked. As much as I distrust and dislike your Spirit, I have to acknowledge its existence."

_Yes, and the fact that She hasn't given up on you. Believe me, it would be easier if She had._

"I suppose that's true."

Hermione chewed on her lip for a moment, and then wrote, _We have much to discuss about our working relationship. I'll bring Dobby tomorrow to my office at noon. Can you meet me there?_

Secretly, he was glad that she had turned the topic away from the emotional realm, because he literally was fighting the revolting urge with all his being to simply hold her. He had no claim or right to do that now, after all that had happened, but the feelings were there nonetheless. 

Revolting that he couldn't pin any this business on her, but he supposed he had mellowed some with age. Disgusting, really.

Lupin, on the other hand, was going to get a piece of his mind the second he could corner the bastard.

"I'll see you at noon." He stood up with her, and walked to the door. She turned to face him with an old, familiar sad smile.

He simply couldn't stop himself. He put his arms around her, and held her as the tears came. How long they stood there feeling pain for themselves, each other, what could have been and what might be to come, neither was certain. At length, she disengaged herself from his arms and fled into the safety of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I realized it wasn't self-evident. Hermione, like many hard-of-hearing individuals, can read lips. I'm sorry I didn't call that out specifically earlier in the story. Thanks for pointing that out to me, readers! 

If Hermione had been possessed of the Holy Spirit, Severus had always been possessed of the Inner Bastard. Never did that seem more true to him as it did while he lay awake thinking of all she had written to him, all she had been through, and his part in it.

It was tempting to simply resign and leave. He didn't really owe Dumbledore anything anymore. As far as he was concerned, any debt had been cancelled by the stunt of inviting Hermione to succeed him and not telling Severus the truth.

The Slytherin part of him wanted to stay put, and be cold and distant to her and her son. He could stalk around acting like nothing had happened, all the Gryffindors would despise him, and they'd breathe a sigh of relief when he announced his departure at the end of spring term. She'd forever hate him, and young James wouldn't seek him out at some future date hoping for a nauseating reconciliation. His conscience, such as it was, wouldn't be bothered by worrying about the boy's upbringing with all the ridiculous Gryffindors fluttering around imbuing the child with nobility and honour and sickening bravery.

After all, he'd never once had the desire to father children. Part of that was never being in love as a young man when most couples decided to procreate, he supposed, but he knew he'd be as poor of an excuse for a father as he had been as a Companion. He'd never had a decent paternal role model till Albus Dumbledore entered his life, and by then the patterns were fairly well set. He had been quite honest with Hermione years ago on the subject. He'd always thought it would be best that the sad legacy of the Snape family die with his generation. 

He realized, of course, that it was too late for that to be true.

He didn't actually hate children as much as he seemed to in his classes; he just took pleasure in making them squirm, much as he liked tweaking Miss Chang and Professor Longbottom these days. He had very little experience with younger children, since most of them ran away at the sight of him when he had occasion to see them in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. It was remarkable that young James had looked him square in the eye without flinching, or backing down.

Damn her for putting him in this position! His usual off-center grasp of The Appropriate Thing to Do was definitely eluding him in favor of the warring scenarios of The Expedient Thing To Do, the Callous Bastard Thing to Do, and even The Gryffindor Thing To Do. Perish the thought! He'd been spending far too much time with Lupin.

It wasn't just the child, though. It was her. Seeing her again brought everything bubbling to the surface that he'd been keeping closed off for seven years. 

He still loved her. And, according to her, the feeling was mutual.

He got up and started rummaging around for the Dreamless Sleep potion he kept in his cupboard. It would be a very long night without it.

*~*

_Dear Mother Superior,_

_He's been confronted. I have no idea what each of t hem is thinking, but there it is. Little James is staying with us so they can sort things out._

_James was amazingly frank with him. It was nice, really, seeing Severus caught off kilter. _

_I would not be the least bit surprised if he owls you for help._

_All my love,_

Narcissa/Sister Joan 

*~*

Hermione was in her office early the next morning, arranging her things. It was very strange to be in the familiar office and not see Dumbledore or Fawkes. It was downright bizarre to sit in his chair. 

What ever made me think I could fill his shoes? Why the hell am I here? 

She'd tried not to examine her rationale too closely in the preceding months. It was a good opportunity to further her career in school administration. She missed England. She missed her old friends. The primary school in Hogsmeade was outstanding. Really, she had come up with so many justifications that helped her avoid the reality that one main reason was to finally confront Severus with the truth.

The Mother Superior was right, the nosy old biddy. The truth shall make you free. 

Ever since the confrontation the night before, she had felt a huge weight off her chest. It didn't really matter what he decided to do at this point. He knew about James. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure she wanted to share her son anyway. Maybe Severus would just leave. He'd run away from his responsibilities before without even a backward glance, after all.

That was cold. Give the man a chance. 

She was honestly afraid to see him again even under professional circumstances. Her Spirit had been so overjoyed the previous night, that Hermione had nearly just attacked Severus in her glee at seeing him. Her Spirit had never been too subtle. It was a good thing that Hermione was possessed of Herculean self-control.

He did allow you to blubber on his shoulder, you know. He may be an awful git most of the time, but you know how he operates. All bluster and evil on the outside, tender on the inside. 

She shook her thoughts off. All she wanted was an amicable working relationship and for her son to come out of this non-traumatized.

*~*

"So that was my dad, hm? Do you like him? Is he nice?" James was grilling Narcissa, Remus, and Draco.

Draco spoke up. "Your dad is very…honourable, James. Very…um…I would trust him with my life. He does the right thing."

Remus nodded. "He's a…good…deep down, he's a good man. I'm sure you'll get on with him famously."

Narcissa smiled at all the skirting around the Main Personality Flaws they were doing. "Honey, I know this will be hard to understand. Your father loves you and wants you, but he's not been able to be with you while you were growing up. I am certain he will want to spend some time with you now. It will be funny for both of you, but I know you'll give him a chance, won't you?" 

"He seemed really tired and cranky."

Remus stifled a laugh. "He's a very busy man, James, and can certainly be…cranky. He's much nicer when you get to know him. You'll see."

"Can I come stay here again soon?" James loved the Manor. Now that all traces of Lucius Malfoy had been erased, the home and grounds were actually quite cheery.

"You may come here anytime, little brother," Draco said.

*~*

Sirius Black was a Man With A Mission.

Ever since the first time Hermione had sat at his table 6 years ago, pregnant and tearful as she spilled to him and Harry that her first letter to that idiot Snape had gone unopened and returned, he'd been harboring some substantial resentment towards the Potions Master. To be quite honest, they'd gotten along quite well the three years that Hermione had been at Hogwarts, but after the breakup things had declined dramatically between them. Remus had been much better than he at keeping things balanced; Sirius was ready to charge in and tell Severus about James and the fact that he had hurt Hermione so terribly a number of times. Hermione had asked all of them not to interfere, but that didn't mean he had to like it. If not for Remus and Harry holding him back, he would have punched the smirky git's face repeatedly as Hermione went unacknowledged all those years.

Hermione had asked everyone to get along with him, and for her sake, he complied. But over the years, his visits across the pond to see Hermione had gotten a little more frequent, and not necessarily in the company of Harry or Moony anymore.

He was in love with her.

Six months prior, over a bottle of wine late one evening, he had asked Dobby and Eleanor to take a hint and head off and then looked at her beautiful face over the table. He reached for her hands, and she gave them willingly to him. If he'd looked more closely, he would have seen the sorrow in her eyes.

"Hermione, I have to be honest with you. I know you're still pining for that awful prat of a man skulking around in the Hogwarts dungeons. I just want you to know that if you call my name, I'll be there. I think you should confront him, get this all out of your system, so you can take care of yourself. Look towards the future. There are a lot of men who would do anything to love a woman as brilliant and wonderful as you are."

She shook her head, and wrote on the legal pad that was on the table, _And you're one of them. Did I guess correctly?_

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I will be there for you. I'm not going to pressure you, and since I don't see him very often, I won't have occasion to slug him for letting such a precious treasure waste away."

Sirius. You're wonderful. I've gone far beyond thinking of you as just Harry's godfather, and I confess under normal circumstances I would be tempted to just take you here on the kitchen table. Don't look so shocked. But until I have the chance in a few months to confront him, my heart is still his. I don't want to hurt you and I don't want you to wait for me to fall out of love with him. It may never happen. 

The conversation had lagged as they finished a last glass of wine, and then he had kissed her. She responded despite herself, before pushing him away and writing, _I can't promise you that will ever happen again. But if I get the Bat out of my system once and for all, I'll know who to call. _

Remus had admonished him to leave her alone as he left with James and Narcissa last night, but the night was over and he had to see how things had happened.

He knocked, and she bade him enter.

She never used Dobby to interpret personal conversations, preferring to use pad and paper. She had been working on a charm that would translate her thoughts to paper, using the same principle that had been at play in Tom Riddle's Diary. She'd had so little occasion to test it since she had rarely had conversations of a sufficiently personal nature to warrant not having Dobby around.

She held up her hands and grabbed a parchment, and waved her wand over the paper and the quill. She softly murmured an enchantment. Spells were about the only time she used her voice anymore; Sirius realized how much he missed it.

Testing…testing…Hi Sirius! Let's see how this works in practice, it's been flawless in my testing. 

"Remarkable," Sirius said. "I can see where that particular enchantment would come in handy for a lot of situations."

_Indeed. So, what brings you by?_ She seemed quite unconcerned with life, hadn't been obviously crying, and generally was upbeat. He was feeling sheepish now, thinking he would be charging in to save the day.

"Just wanted to see how your meeting with Snape turned out."

She half closed her eyes, and replied, _Better than expected. We're not done yet. He doesn't seem angry with me, anyway. After all, I did try and tell him what was happening, he just refused to read my letters. He might be less charitable towards those like yourself and Lupin that he sees regularly that didn't tell him, but even then, I believe he understands how he shut himself off._

"Well, then? No grand reunion, or…"

Leave it to you to come to the point. It's too soon to tell, my friend. 

"If you need me…for anything…shoulder to cry on, dog to walk, whatever…you'll let me know, right?" He was trying to inject levity into the discussion to hide the fact that he was disappointed that Severus didn't just kick her out. What did he want here, anyway? Her heart to break? Her to be in pieces, for him to sort out? Well, let's face it, that is probably what he did secretly want, but he had no wish to see her hurt. It was a sticky wicket.

Of course. Ahhh, he approaches now. I have some things to discuss with him. See you later? 

On cue, Severus entered, and with a slight snarl, Sirius left the room. Hermione summoned Dobby, and they began planning the year ahead without a trace of angst. She noticed that he seemed slightly preoccupied and possibly a little tired, but the rest of his emotions were quite in check.

After they were done, Dobby excused himself. He'd known his mistress long enough to see what was in her eyes, and suddenly remembered an important errand.

She turned to her enchanted quill and parchment. Severus stood watching over her shoulder as it formed words, and whistled. "Impressive, Headmistress."

I'll be blunt, then. Have you thought about how you would like to handle things given the fact that there is a little boy involved? I can keep him away from you, you can visit him alone, we can be with him together, I want you to call the shots here with one stipulation. We must always do what is best for him. He is a powerful little wizard and I do not want him finding a dark path. There are some things about the situation I haven't had time to tell you, but it is extremely important that this little boy has a happy childhood. 

Severus raised an eyebrow, and nodded. "I think I would like the three of us to spend some time together before I feel confident about taking the boy alone, but I am willing to play the paternal role. I confess that it was the last role I thought I'd find myself in, but since I am a father, I will do my part to ensure the boy's proper upbringing."

Relief washed over her features. _Thank you, Severus, this means a lot to me._

He waved his hand. "I still remain…regretful…that I was so stubborn in the past. The least I can do is try and make…this up to him."

She laughed, and said, _We'll turn you into a Gryffindor yet._

He rolled his eyes, and said, "You and what army? Would you accompany me to lunch in my quarters? I'd like to talk more about our son."

They walked out and past the watchful eyes of Sirius Black in the shadows.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione let the enchanted quill roll over parchment while she ate. She read over the parchment after the quill was finished. It seemed to be all wildly exaggerated and inaccurate parodies of what she had actually been thinking, which made her believe that the charm she had used wasn't quite as long lasting as she'd hoped; it read more like the Quick-Quotes Quill version of things, so she crumpled the parchment. She missed the nuance and accuracy of spoken language right about now, and wondered whether she should just speak to him. Her life as a mute was only self-imposed out of embarrassment and just a little bit of fear.

He was startled when she broke the silence. "I've been told I speak too loudly, but if you can bear with me, I think I'll try to tell the story this way. Be patient with me; I can't hear myself so I simply don't know if I'm being loud."

Her voice was halting, somewhat flatter than he remembered and a little hoarse, but he was relieved to hear it. He had wondered why she didn't speak, whether the potion had rendered her mute, but had not asked. 

"This is…acceptable." He started to be sarcastic, but caught himself in time.

"It's much easier for me to sign, but my lip-reading has gotten better over time so I suppose we can have a nearly normal conversation, then. Let me tell as much as I know." She paused. It felt like such an intimate gesture, speaking when you couldn't hear yourself, dependent that the words you remembered how to form were actually what the recipient would hear. She hated the feeling, but pressed ahead.

"Another Child of the Order was born after Voldemort was imprisoned. It was an unusual circumstance. Voldemort had apparently become fascinated with Muggle biotechnology, and arranged for himself to be cloned. At the time, there had never been a successful attempt to clone a human being. He contacted this rather insane religious group called the Raelians who claimed to have the technology but needed a catalyst that they were unable to produce – Voldemort apparently helped the process along a little, though we're not sure how. The next thing you know, they're telling the Muggle news media they've successfully cloned a child, but they were quite secretive about the whole thing and it was written off as a hoax. They've certainly not been able to reproduce the feat again, which is why we assume he used some form of magic to make it work. It certainly wasn't a hoax. A child is out there, right now, bearing the genetic imprint of our dearly incarcerated Dark Lord.

"The Raelian sect apparently attempted to contact Voldemort to let him know of their success, but failed, because Voldemort was in Azkaban. One of these letters they attempted to send is the one that Harry now has. The child was apparently adopted by some members of the group, never to be heard from again." Her voice was getting slightly more animated and certain as she continued. "The only reason we know about it at all was a letter that Harry has come across in his work as an Auror, and the Hogwarts Book that lists all the incoming children. A child designated only as Tom Marvolo Riddle is listed in the book." She paused for a moment and took a sip of tea, watching the emotions play over his face at this news.

At length, she continued on, "The trail is cold after the child's adoption. The Mother Superior and Dumbledore maintain that the best thing we can do is take exceptional care of James, not that I have any difficulty with that, and make certain he is prepared in case this unknown entity turns out to have some or all of Voldemort's power. There are still those out there who would attempt to pervert young Tom Riddle if they knew he was alive, as you are surely aware.

"James is surrounded by strong witches and wizards who can help him. We need to make sure he stays on our side of things. We cannot predict the power this other child might have; it may be weak, it may be amplified, you know how mixing Muggle science and magic can be so unpredictable." Hermione finished, and looked at him over steepled fingers.

"This is all very interesting, but what does it have to do with our son?" As he said _our son_, he felt an unfamiliar lurch in his stomach. He was a father. Would he get used to that reality?

"There is a good chance that Voldemort's…son, for lack of a better phrase…will be at Hogwarts this term. The owl has been sent, and came back without her burden. We won't know what the child's adoptive name is, but we have a pretty good idea of what Tom Riddle looked like in his younger days. We've alerted Ollivander to let us know if anyone finds themselves in need of a familiar-type wand, and the Sorting Hat will definitely be able to tell us who Tom the Younger is unless Voldemort managed some kind of charm on the boy's genetics that could fool it. No one knows if Voldemort was inherently evil, of course, but we must proceed with caution. There are too many variables."

Suddenly everything made sense, and he could see Dumbledore's machinations clearly. The old man was haunting him from his stupid little hovel on the sea. He'd made Hermione an offer she couldn't refuse to bring James close so that he, Snape, could play the father and protect the child while determining the identity of Voldemort's heir and guiding the youngster to the Light.

If there was anything in this world that irked Severus Snape, it was being manipulated by a Gryffindor. The old man had done it again.

All he could do was nod at her. Well more than half his soul was screaming at him to walk away now, but the need in her eyes kept him rooted to the spot. He could feel that she and her ruddy Spirit were bewitching him again, which was a thought that quite honestly both repelled and attracted. It was a familiar position, at least.

"We'll take things as they come, Headmistress, and you can be assured that both boys will have my protection and guidance." He decided to be deliberately formal to attempt to wash away the tide of desire, and hopefully dismiss her before he was forced to take her into his arms again. He'd been down this road before and could recognize the signs.

"Thank you. Now, unless there is anything else…?" Her eyes met his, and it was all he could do to keep himself in check.

"When will James be returning from the Manor?" Severus said, forcing his eyes off her and to a point on the wall behind her. 

"Tomorrow morning. We have a week until school starts, and I'll want to go down to Hogsmeade and get a few things for him."

"I'll accompany you," he offered, wincing at the fact that he was actually offering to spend time with a child voluntarily. His circumstances had certainly changed.

"James would like that, I'm sure. Would you," she faltered, "have dinner with me tonight?" She was surprised at herself, but once she had begun speaking with him, she felt as if she'd opened up and yet no harm had come to her. It was intensely liberating.

He knew, without a doubt, that he should say no. He should limit time with her to the boy and official duties. There should not ever be a social occasion that would require him to be alone with her. Gods help him if he couldn't control himself.

"I don't think that would be wise," he managed.

"I won't bite. We can go down to Hogsmeade and have a nice public dinner where you don't have to worry about me working any voodoo on you."

He sighed, cursing her inwardly. "That won't be necessary. Come back here at 7."

She nodded, and left the room.

*~*

A dementor glided into the room where the prone form of Tom Riddle the First slept. Naturally this wasn't a surprise to anyone; a dementor checked on the prisoner once a day for signs of physical death. As the dementor considered the prisoner, he finally raised one long arm and pointed it in the defeated, broken wizard's direction.

"_Ennervatium enumero spiritus_," rasped a voice, and a sickly yellow light shot out of the dementor's head and into Tom's mouth.

Tom Riddle's body had existed without thought or reason for over ten years. A dementor had been assigned to administer the Kiss, to suck the soul of the Dark Lord Voldemort out of Tom Riddle's body and leave it forever insensate and void. No one had ever survived or defeated a Kiss. It was the end of a life, and in Voldemort's case, most of the world thought that was just fine.

What those in the world at large could not comprehend was the power, and deliciousness, of Voldemort and his particular brand of evil to many of the dementors. The one chosen to Kiss Voldemort indeed sucked out the soul, but did not devour it as was the custom.

Voldemort's soul had been retained for this moment, carefully hidden away by a band of dementors who wanted nothing more than terror and strife to reign once again on the earth. The dementors that had plotted to save this soul and return it to the body of the prisoner knew that their rewards for this would be immense and pleasurable. There had been so little fresh human emotion at Azkaban for the past years after Voldemort's untimely fall, but they had been obliged to wait until his boy had reached a suitable age before making a move. All of them had banded together, and watched the signs. Voldemort's soul was perfectly aware of all that had happened in the Post-Draco-Trial world, but had not been able to act due to being disembodied. That was all about to change.

The dementor that had carried Voldemort's soul back to Tom Riddle watched as light dawned in the prisoner's eyes. He looked down at his hands, his feet, and began to laugh. He laughed and cackled until tears squeezed out of his eyes, and he turned to his captor and savior.

"You will be well rewarded, my friend. Let us go and see my son before he can enter Hogwarts and be damned by those foolish cowards. We have much, much work to do."

For only the second time in recorded history, a prisoner walked out of Azkaban. His guards allowed him to pass. And no one who had attended Draco's trial would be safe from his terrible wrath.

*~*

In a tiny flat in Manchester, a young boy stared at the wall, absently hitting the button on his CD player to hear "Abbey Road" again. His pseudo-parents were perhaps slightly concerned about his obsession with John Lennon and death, but they chalked it up to a flight of fancy rather than a true deathwish. His life was far too important for it to be otherwise.

The dyed black hair, the dull eyes…this was all normal in their eyes, desirable, even.

Neither of the boy's adoptive parents were surprised when their son's letter from Hogwarts had arrived. They knew well the circumstances surrounding his birth. They were to be rewarded quite handsomely for their part in the upbringing of the magical clone child. They had been guaranteed a place in Heaven by His Holiness, the Raelian leader. They had no knowledge of or interest in the magical world other than its part in sending them to their eternal life. They had encouraged the boy in the darker paths in life, abusing and frustrating him at every turn, just as they had been instructed in the wishes of his donor. He was bitter, angry, and difficult. They were delivering the goods as promised.

As the boy idly tapped a foot to "Come Together", he noticed a green flash under the door. Anything to do with the horrid people who had adopted him didn't concern him, so he didn't think about the flash or what it might mean. He contemplated skipping "Something", deciding at last that he could tolerate it this time through as long as he didn't have to deal with any Paul songs. 

At length, his door opened, and the room grew cold. A large…creature?…in black hooded robes stood in his doorway, motioning him forward. As if he were a marionette, he stood and mechanically followed the beckon into the hall.

An emaciated, disgusting semi-human sat in his ersatz father's chair. The…man's?…feet rested on his dead mother-figure's head, kicking it in time with the bang bang of Maxwell's now-forgotten silver hammer. "Yoko didn't break up the Beatles, you know," the man said.

"Yes," the boy said in a flat tone, "Paul's ego was the real culprit."

The man smiled the reptilian grin of someone who was tasting his first freedom and power in many a year, and looked levelly at the boy who showed not the faintest care or worry that his adoptive parents lay dead at his feet. After all, the boy thought, they were planning on dying anyway. I just get one less week to live in this hell-hole with them.

"We have much to discuss, my boy. We are one, you and I, and we are about to take over the world together."

"Pardon my curiosity, sir, but who are you and why should I consider you important? Raelian? Magical?"

The man laughed, and stood up. He walked to the boy and touched his cheek with his hand. "I suppose I could be thought of as your father, in a sense. But it's more correct to say that we are of the same ilk."

"You're my father?" While world-weary, the boy wasn't above fits of age appropriate wonder, and his eyes were wide and slightly fearful.

"Your genetic donor, yes."

Rage welled up in the boy, and he instinctively raised a hand and struck the older man square in the jaw.

The Dementor accompanying Voldemort advanced on the young boy, but Voldemort held up a hand to halt his progress. "It's all right. You have much anger. That is perfect. We have much to discuss, my young friend."

*~*~*~*

A/N: Nope, I'm not making the Raelians and the cloning up. www.telegraph.co.uk/connected/main.jhtml?xml=/connected/2003/01/03/ecnclon30.xml for more info. Just sort of fit the story and my penchant for Muggle science/magical realm crossover.


	5. Chapter 5

The alarm wards on his door were activated, letting the reluctant Associate Headmaster know that his guest had arrived somewhat early. He opened the door, but did not see the person he was expecting.

"Snape," the visitor said with more than a hint of snarl.

"Black. To what do I owe this dubious honor? I'm afraid I have no bones to offer right at the moment…"

"I didn't come here to exchange the usual pleasantries, I assure you. It's about our Headmistress."

The look in Black's eye gave him away. Just like a canine, you could always read their emotions immediately; no pretense or coyness about them at all. 

"I see. Do come in then."

How had Snape missed the signs before? He'd spent interminable hours with this idiot and his wolfish pal over the years. Was this a recent development?

"Damn you, Snape. I have spent the greater part of ten years trying to force Hermione to see reason and come back to you. I've spent the rest of it trying to get you to wake up and talk to her, and forcing myself not to reveal her secrets to you. I'm bloody tired of it."

Snape crossed his arms, and said nothing, waiting for the plot to develop further.

"I've come here to ask you to do one thing, and one thing only, Snape. Yes, yes, I'm aware there is a child involved here. I've been far more of a father to him than you would have had a prayer of being. You can play the father now, but you'll have plenty of catching up to do in that regard."

The heat of anger was rising in Snape's soul, and for a change he wasn't feeling much like holding his emotions in check. How dare this bastard tell him what kind of a father he might be when he hadn't even had a chance yet? 

"Black, if you have a point, come to it. I am expecting the Headmistress any minute."

"Let her go."

Snape snorted derisively. "What gives you the right to tell me how to live my life?"

"I've fallen in love with her, you idiot, and I won't see you hurt her again. I've had to hold her while she fell apart enough times, and I'm done with that. If I hold her again, it is because she is with me and not because she is sobbing over what you, in your arrogance, have done to her."

Snape wouldn't admit that Sirius had poured salt on a fresh wound. He'd be damned if he'd let this idiotic Gryffindor tirade go unchecked, however. "I suspect that is for her to decide, and not you. And for your information, Black, you're not the only man who loves her."

"You've shown it so well over the years," Sirius snarled, sounding dangerously close to a man on the edge.

"I regret foolish choices I've made. The past is past, immutable."

"Let her go, then."

"So you can have her? Sorry, Black, I'll not participate in a pissing match over a girl with a Gryffindor again. This path is up to her, now, and no amount of meddling by you will make it otherwise."

"It will if you simply tell her you can't go back there." Black was sounding rather desperate. It was past time to end the conversation.

"It is none of your business, Black." Severus opened the door. "Good evening."

Sirius considered him for a minute, and then strode out the door without saying another word.

_Well,_ Snape mused, _if I was on the fence about letting Hermione back in, I think I've leapt over. As if I'd let Black have her._

He had to shake that train of thought off, and remind himself that as he had told Sirius, she wasn't just some prize to fight over. 

Cocky son of a bitch, though. He wondered if Hermione knew how deep this ran.

~*~

Harry had shown up unexpectedly at her door, but Hermione suspected Sirius was in on the plot.

Harry, you know I adore Sirius, she scribbled. I have to figure this out with Severus first. Nothing else will satisfy the Spirit in this matter.

She was late, and started to suspect there were delaying tactics going on, because Harry kept covering the same ground with her about "moving on". _I hate to be rude, but I'm late for dinner. You can stay here if you want. See you later._

Truth be told, the Spirit was irritating the hell out of her right now. She felt as if she had only minor control over her destiny, which was more than a little frustrating. As she mused, she ran headfirst into Sirius Black coming up from the dungeons. She had been right about Harry stalling her so that Sirius could go and confront Severus. How irksome.

"Uh…Hermione…" he began.

She took out her notepad. _Save it. And stop trying to interfere. It's upsetting me._

He looked down at his feet, then back at her. "I'm sorry."

She nodded once at him, and then swept past. He watched her go and cursed himself, Snape, God or whatever part of it was in Hermione, and the whole ridiculous situation. 

Time to collect Harry and go get deep into a bottle of whiskey down in Hogsmeade.

*~*

Hermione found Severus seated in his favorite armchair, staring at the small fire he kept lit to ward off the damp. The door had been ajar; he didn't seem to notice her approach. "Severus?" she said uncertainly, once again shy about her voice.

He turned, and looked at her with a bit of amusement. "I thought you were more of a cat person as a rule given your Animagus form, but perhaps I have been mistaken."

Her eyes rolled. "Clever. So you find you have competition, eh?"

"Is he?"

"Competition? Well, that remains to be seen, doesn't it?" She wasn't going to give her feelings away now. And to be quite honest, she still didn't know the answer.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" he said, trying to muster up the Congenial Host personality before the Jealous Prat personality took over. Really. What business did he have being upset that Black wanted her? It's not as if Snape owned her. He'd given up all rights to her seven years ago, and didn't want her back. Did he?

"Certainly, thank you." She settled into the opposite armchair, and for a moment allowed herself to revel in the familiarity of the scene. She'd spent many evenings curled up in this chair reading or talking. She remembered the crackle of the fire, the pages rustling, and the way his voice sounded. She brushed a tear away quickly before he could return.

After some good wine and a lovely dinner, they returned to the chairs for a nightcap. She was definitely starting to get a bit on the tipsy side, but was putting up a good front. As usual, he was completely unreadable.

"It was a nice dinner, almost like old times. Thank you for inviting me down, even though I suppose I was actually the one who suggested this." She betrayed none of the emotions that had been held in check all evening long, but the more wine she had the harder it was to ignore the insistent voice of the Spirit that was goading her to break through his barrier and go after him.

He was having a battle of his own. The more time he spent in her company, the worse things seemed to get. She had seemed to forgive him too readily, to slip back into old habits too quickly. Here she was sitting in his armchair in front of the fire as if time hadn't passed at all. He'd been the cause of a fair amount of misery in her life and yet in that Gryffindor way, she looked past it in favor of working with him, and voluntarily spending time in his company. Appalling, really, that she could be so forgiving.

There was a certain amount of self-preservation involved, he supposed, given the news of Voldemort's young clone coming to Hogwarts. She needed him to protect their child. That really must be the linchpin that was overriding her common sense to stay away from him. Surely she had such tight control over her Spirit that she wouldn't find herself longing for the renewal of old, more familiar, acquaintances with him.

Suddenly, however, he had to know.

"So, back to a previous subject," he said, "Sirius Black."

Was he jealous? "Yes?"

"What is he to you?"

"Let's see. My best friend's godfather. A professor at this school. James' favorite uncle – can you imagine, having an uncle who can change into a dog if you are a six-year-old boy? A steady presence in James' life, he has been around a lot the last few years." He cringed a little bit, but it was something he couldn't help right at the moment.

"Now answer my question. What is he to _you_?"

  
"Kind of a personal question, don't you think? What business is it of yours?" She wasn't angry at all, but it might serve her well to needle him a bit.

"You're my son's mother. I'd like to know more about what…alliances…you've formed."

"Really? That's all? No jealousy?"

He tried to put on the Mask of Disgust, snorted, and rolled his eyes. "I'm merely curious. We were once lovers, Hermione, haven't you wondered about my life? I'm curious about yours."

"Of course I've wondered. Every single dreadful day that I wasn't with you, I thought of you. Sirius helped me through some tough, weak times when I missed you desperately and was shattered by your rejection of my correspondence. He is important to me."

"Then he is your lover?"

"I fail to see what business that is of yours. You cut me off, remember?" Now, she was starting to get a little angry, and could feel a heat rising in her cheeks. 

"It is my concern," he said carefully, "because I need to understand any romantic entanglements I might be getting myself into if I ever decide to act on the waves of desire your Spirit is sending out."

It wasn't like him to play his cards so early in the game. Now, to decide whether to call the bluff.

"I haven't decided where my relationship with Sirius is going. I have unfinished business with someone else. After that, well. It's certainly a possibility."

"What could you possibly see in that nitwit?"

"What do I see in you?"

The Spirit piped up. _Oh, for the love of Mike. Just kiss him. You can sort out the rest later._

_Shut up, you bitch,_ was Hermione's reply. _He'll have to make the first move._

Suddenly, he did just that. She found herself in his arms, his lips seeking hers in a mad rush of seven years' broken dreams and pure, unadulterated lust. Their tongues were intertwined, her hands in his hair and his on her waist. The heat generated was nothing short of explosive. There was an urge, nearly irresistible, to simply shed their clothes and go right at it on his sofa, and both of them were clearly contemplating it.

Whoa, a tiny little voice said in a far corner of her brain. What in the hell was going on?

Is this really us, or the Spirit manipulating us? It was the age-old question in their relationship, but suddenly it began nagging at her.

However, she might get laid for the first time in seven years. Time to stop overanalyzing?

They broke away at the same time, and stared at one another. He murmured something.

"I didn't see what you said."

"I said…oh, forget it. Your goddamned ghost again."

"Perhaps you're right, Severus."

He remained impassive.

She sighed. "Will you ever be ready to be with me? Ever? You weren't ready for it ten years ago, and I spent 3 years in a daydream only to be rudely awakened."

"Go running to Black, then," suddenly cold. All he wanted to do was take her off to his bedroom right here and now and end this doubt, these ghosts of the past.

"You insufferable lunatic. Is that really what you want?"

"What do you want, Hermione?" It wasn't a trick question.

She sank back into her chair. "I don't know. Let's spend some more time together, with James, all right?"

"So you can grade me on my performance as a father?"

Now she was really angry. "No, damn you. So I can have some time to sort out…I don't have to explain myself to you. Good night."

Suddenly, he had a fear that letting her go would prove to be a terrible mistake.

*~*

She ran out of the castle and into the night, down the path that would lead her to Hogsmeade. All that ran through her mind on the way down were thoughts of packing back up and taking James to New York. She'd been crazy to think that this would be home, that Severus would welcome her with open arms, that the last seven years could vanish like so much smoke.

Her Spirit chided her, letting her know it would take time.

Hermione screamed inwardly, _I'm not interested. Let me go on with my life. Sirius would make a loyal Companion. Choose him. _

And the one she'd sputtered a number of times over the last few years, _I hate you and wish you'd go away._

The Spirit tutted. He's not the one. He doesn't make your blood boil, and he is not your son's father. A good man, to be sure, but there is only one man that is right for us. Don't make Narcissa's mistake. And I have news for you, sweetheart, you are stuck with me.

_I'm going to find Sirius and take him back to my room and take him to bed tonight. What do you think about that?_

You can sleep with him, but it won't change the facts.

Hermione had reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade in her blind raging at her inner Goddess, and stumbled the rest of the way to the Three Broomsticks. Sure enough, Harry and Sirius were at a table, into a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhisky.

Harry saw her first and moved over to make room, calling for another glass from Rosmerta. "Didn't go well?"

She shook her head, unwilling to speak again. It was odd that speaking aloud only seemed comfortable in Severus' presence. She pulled out her pad of paper and wrote, _Unfinished business, still._

Sirius didn't say anything at all. He was too happy to see her, and cursing himself at the same time because she was clearly in agony.

After downing a couple of shots in silence, she looked at Sirius. _Take me home._

Harry cleared his throat. "I'll just…go on ahead…few things to do…getting late…" and made a quick exit.

Sirius looked at her and the words she'd written on her notepad, not sure what to believe or trust. Normally his instinct would be to take her home, do whatever she wanted, and ask questions later. He was a man, after all, and the object of his affection was looking at him rather hungrily asking him to come home with her. But he hesitated.

What was holding him up? She was wondering the same thing as she watched the war going on in his eyes. Had she suddenly sprouted a set of newt eyes? She was working on two rejections in one evening.

Standing and tossing enough gold on the table to cover the bill, he grabbed Hermione's hand and said, "I am taking you home."

Finally. 

Sirius had probably had too much to drink, but Hermione was in worse shape. He had to hold her up while they stumbled back towards Hogwarts. As they made their way through the night, a lone dark figure leaned over the railing at the top of the Astronomy Tower in silence. He had, indeed, driven her to Black. How revolting, though he wasn't sure if he was upset more with her or with himself. He was angry with her for running off to the man who presented less of a challenge, but was curiously smug with the realization that she wasn't completely Spirit-driven. She had free will; perhaps he could put that one fear out of his mind, now. 

*~*

She leaned against her doorframe, looking at Sirius, wondering what she had gotten herself into. She was determined to see it through, of course, if only to spite Snape and the damnable Spirit who was more of a curse than a blessing.

"Hermione," he said, tilting her chin up to look at him, and knowing this was going to simply kill him as he kissed her forehead. "You're home. I'm going to say good night. You need rest. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

_Come in Sirius, _she wrote. _Don't be a prat. I don't bite._

"No. This isn't right. I want you to want me for me, not because you were rejected by that great Slytherin Idiot. It's costing me a lot, but let me tell you, a Gryffindor doesn't settle for scraps even if he is a dog at heart. You need time and space and I will be there no matter what happens. _Alohamora_, and good night." Her door opened at his command. Defeated, she backed in, eyes never leaving his, willing him to follow her. 

His entire soul crying out otherwise, he turned and walked away.

She closed the door and turned around into arms of darkness standing outstretched. Startled, she looked up into Severus' face.

"I am sorry, Hermione. I…"

He never had a chance to finish his sentence. She stormed away into her bedroom and slammed the door with a finality that made him shudder. 

She was sobbing and probably totally unaware that her crying was loud enough for him to hear outside the door. He hesitated, unsure if he should simply leave her to it or dare to enter her bedroom.

There was an owl tapping the glass outside her window that caught his eye. An owl, at this hour? He walked over to the window and let the creature in. It flew around his head and dropped a letter addressed to him.

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I received your message a day ago and wasn't sure how to advise, but I know that my time on this earth grows short so I'll do my best. _

_Please stop worrying about whether or not the Spirit is controlling her actions. It isn't. She controls her own destiny, but the Spirit guides her towards wise choices. It's up to her to accept or reject them._

_Whether you like it or not, you are her Protector and Companion. It's not a title that can be disinherited, no matter how much you both may wish it at times. _

_I advise you to simply work in James' and Hermione's best interest; only in doing that will you find your own path in this. I know you hate to think of being manipulated, as you put it, but you ran away seven years ago and yet still find your feelings this confusing. That should tell you something._

_I'm not sure what I can say that will illuminate you further, but it is imperative that James and Hermione stay strong in their power. Everything points to a large Evil Event on the horizon soon. I won't be alive to witness it. This is all I know. You have all the free will in the world, but know that unless you fulfill your destiny, there is much potential for things to go awry not only in your world, but mine as well._

_Be well, my son._

_The Mother Superior_

He made a decision. He strode to her doorway, pushing it open and handing her the letter. He turned and began to walk out, but she caught him.

"Finish what you start, Severus Snape."


	6. Chapter 6

"I'd call you a silly little girl, but you're my superior now." Snape had Hermione backed against the wall, and they were both breathing a little faster than they should have been. "It's been a very, very long night. I'll 'finish' what I started sometime, but not tonight." 

"Tease," she spat, "Go back to your dungeons." 

His eyes glittered with promise as he nodded once and left her room. She sighed, frustrated, angry, tired. 

Perhaps it was time to simply be cold, professional, and detached with him. She couldn't play the game anymore, despite the nagging Spirit rattling her. She wouldn't come unhinged. There was too much at stake now. 

*~* 

Narcissa and James appeared in the office of the Headmistress the next morning. James bounded in, signing the entire story of his weekend animatedly to his mother while Narcissa sat idly in a chair, twirling her hair absently in her fingers and waiting for the silent exchange between mother and son to abate. At length, Hermione looked up at her older Sister and signed her thanks. 

Narcissa handed her a letter. Hermione began reading, blanched, and reached over to hug Narcissa. 

The Mother Superior was on her deathbed, and had asked for the two of them to journey to Ireland to see her before she passed. There was no time to waste; Hermione summoned Dobby and asked him to relay to the Associate Headmaster her regrets, but that she and James would be away for the next day or so, so he'd be in charge. She let Dobby know they could owl her at the convent, and he nodded and left; but not before he saw the exhaustion in her eyes. Dobby had a feeling it might be time to call in reinforcements. 

*~* 

"I have something for you, Hermione," the Mother Superior said. "Really, it's for Severus too, but you'll have to decide whether he should see it. It's yours now." The incredibly ancient woman pressed a small leather book into Hermione's hands. "Keeping James safe is of the primary importance, but do not underestimate your son's power. I don't have more information for you, I wish I did." 

"Conserve your strength, Mother," Narcissa said worriedly. "You don't have to worry about us." 

"Oh, child. I'll worry just as much in the afterlife, but I'll have more power to help. I know there is a reason God is calling me home now. You'll need help from unexpected sources." She held both their hands, and smiled. "My time is done. I only have one thing to say, and then I will leave with the angels who are here even now. Both of you need to follow your hearts rather than your minds, do you hear me? Your heart is the vessel of God's will; the devil can rest in your mind, make no mistake. You've both made a lifetime career out of listening to your head, mainly because you're both very intelligent; but it's time to listen to your heart. I'm not going to spout theology to you, but I'd ask you to go and review the books of Ruth and Esther and some of the more obscure non-canonical gospels, and think about the sacrifices these people made because they listened to the Holy Spirit of God rather than doing what was expected or what was comfortable." A single, sudden last breath, and she breathed no more. 

At long last, Hermione and Narcissa collected James from the convent school and took the Portkey back to Hogwarts, troubled. Hermione immediately signaled that she would go to the library and check out a Bible and some of the more obscure religious texts that would contain some of the Dead Sea Scrolls; she'd owl Narcissa when she had completed some research. Neither of them had the foggiest idea what was in Ruth and Esther, Hermione having had an agnostic upbringing and Narcissa having been brought up in the wizarding world. Hermione sent Dobby again to let Severus know she was back. Warding the door to her office, she sank into a chair and cracked open the King James Bible from the 17th century that Hogwarts kept in the Restricted Section. 

Before she had spent even ten minutes trying to decipher the archaic English, she had fallen deeply asleep in the chair, the small leather book in her pocket forgotten in her exhaustion. As she came to an hour later, her eyes widened as she recognized the presence in front of her. "Eleanor!" she shouted out, forgetting her self-imposed muteness for a moment in her surprise. She began signing. "How did you...?" 

"Got special dispensation from the American authorities...can't stay forever of course, I have a school to haunt, but I've been allowed to jump across the pond to visit for a while." Normally, ghosts stayed in assigned areas and weren't allowed to travel freely, for fairly obvious reasons. Renegade ghosts that haunted people, rather than places, were rare; the ability of a person to get away from an unfriendly ghost by leaving its geographical location was the cornerstone tenet of relations between people and the spirit world. 

Eleanor had become as adept at sign language as the rest of Hermione's American contingent, which was fortunate considering that reading ghostly lips could be nearly impossible. "I'm very glad to see you," Hermione said, "but why did you come? I'm very surprised." 

"Dobby," Eleanor said, "he's worried about you. So I came to check things out for myself. Ah, you know, I just missed you. Do I need a reason?" 

Hermione broke down and began crying. "I wish I'd never left. Things are so bloody complicated." 

"You didn't have a choice, girlie. Now let's sit down and tell Auntie Eleanor all about it. Where is James?" Hermione indicated the couch, where James had settled into sleep just before Hermione had. "Good. How's the man situation?" 

"Worse. I am thinking of giving them up. Too much trouble." 

"Men are fine in small doses, darling...perhaps you've had too much at once. You've been damn near cloistered the past seven years." 

"Well, I am a nun." 

"Touché." Eleanor's eyes sparkled as Nearly Headless Nick floated into the room. 

"Headmistress...you have a visitor outside who can't get past the wards. Hello?" He was regarding Eleanor with much surprise. 

"I'm Eleanor Roosevelt; and you are...?" Hermione hid a smile as she watched Nick's mouth gape open. 

"Sir Nicholas, at your service, my lady. American? How in the world are you here?" 

"Oh, my dear Sir Nicholas, I have some connections Stateside. A few. I'm here for a visit. Show Hermione's guest in, perhaps?" 

Intrigued but polite, Nick retreated and Hermione released the door to allow her guest inside. In a swish of darkness, the Associate Headmaster stalked inside and froze at the sight of the imposing ghost glaring at him. 

"You must be James' father. I can see the resemblance." At Snape's curious glance, Hermione said out loud for Severus' benefit, "Severus, meet Eleanor Roosevelt. El, this is Professor Severus Snape, James's father." 

"Charmed," the ghost said in a tone that belied the fact that she wasn't. She continued to size him up as he shifted uncomfortably for a moment, and then remembered his Slytherin-ness and turned on the Silken-Voiced Guile version of himself. 

"Headmistress, I have a few matters to discuss. I'll be back when the time is more convenient." His gaze fell upon the sleeping form of his son on the couch, and he muttered, "Just send Dobby down to fetch me if you like." 

"Don't bother," Eleanor said, "I'm going to go and talk with Sir Nicholas a bit...seemed like an interesting fellow. Enjoy your...work...Hermione. Snape," she nodded as she left. 

"How the hell did she get here?" Snape said to Hermione. 

"That's not important. What do you want?" The Ice Princess Headmistress was out in full force. 

"I want to invite you and our son to dinner this evening. If it's quite convenient." Severus noted the overnight change from the needy, overwrought woman to the cold, unfeeling one. He didn't like the change at all but had to admit that he probably caused it. 

She nodded. "All right, for James' sake. The Mother Superior passed on today. I'm not up to talking about it," she said as she waved her hand, "but I may need your help with some things." All business. 

"I am, of course, at your command. Seven o'clock, then?" At her nod, he turned and swept out of the rooms. 

"Mum?" James piped up, waving his hands to get his mother's attention. 

She smiled lovingly. 

"Why aren't you and Daddy happy to see each other?" 

"Oh, honey, we are. We just have a funny way of showing it." She walked over to the couch to hug her little boy, gathering strength from his goodness. "But I promise we are happy to see each other again, and he's happy to meet you. Once you two get to know each other, you'll be great friends." 

James considered this, then said, "Can we all be friends together? What about Uncle Remus, and Uncle Harry and Uncle Sirius? Are they all friends too?" 

Like a knife to the bowel, nerves flared at the mention of Sirius. "Sure, sweetpea, for you...we'll all get along fine. You're the most important thing in the world to all of us, James." Of all the things she could say, this was about all she could hang onto for certain. 

~*~ 

Dinner went quite well, and she felt a surge of maternal pleasure when she saw how well James and Severus were interacting. It helped that James was quite bright for his age, and his utter lack of guile in the discussion prompted several muttered "Gryffindor" epithets over the evening to her great amusement. "We'll have to make a proper Slytherin out of this boy," Severus said with a smirk, looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him in her entire life. 

"Over my dead body, Severus Snape." 

"What's a Slytherin, Mum?" 

"Conniving brats of the world," she said playfully. 

"Well, James my boy, Gryffindors are the foolhardy. We all have our weaknesses." Was Snape actually smiling? 

"Everyone I know is a Gryffindor 'cept you, Father." 

"Yes, revolting, isn't it?" 

"Will I be a Gryffindor, mum?" 

"If the Spirit shines kindly, son." This elicited a snort from the Associate Headmaster. 

The evening was over too fast. Severus felt himself wishing for more time; he had never expected it could be like this. He asked Hermione for another evening that week with just the three of them, and was pleased when she affirmed that perhaps since they had many plans to make that week before the arrival of Tom Riddle the Younger and the rest of the students, perhaps they could meet for dinner and "family time" and then send James to bed with Dobby so they could work. Everything seemed so very right, which unnerved her and made it hard to keep up the detached, cool persona she wished to affect. No matter. She felt as though she was following the right path, because the Spirit had been extremely quiet. 

As she tucked James into bed, she suddenly remembered the leather book that the Mother Superior had given her. Sitting across from Eleanor in her parlour, she opened the book. 

"The Diary of Sarah Riddle", the title page read, and a bookmark fell out of the handrwritten diary. Hermione pulled out her wand and mumbled, "Priori Bookmark", and the mark flew back into the book at the right page. Apprehensively, she opened to the mark, and found an entry dated January 10, 1923. This must be Tom Riddle's Muggle grandmother's diary. Why did the Mother Superior pass it to her? 

_Dear Diary,_

_The headaches continue. Now that my hearing has completely disappeared, I sometimes feel I have nothing left to live for._

_All that keeps me going is my unborn son. A fortuneteller tells me that the son of my son will do great things, and will be able to cure deafness. I would dismiss it, but a second Seer claimed to me that my grandson will be the bearer of medical miracles._

_If this is true, I will not do the world a service by dying just yet._

That night Hermione read through the life of Sarah Riddle, with Eleanor reading over her shoulder. Tom Riddle's father was a terror, but the most interesting entries came at the end. Dear old Dad had impregnated a witch. Scandalized, Sarah Riddle had packed the woman off to a convent and stolen the boy. After the entire Riddle family ended up deceased, of course, the boy had grown up to become Lord Voldemort. As far as Hermione could see, the only medical miracle he had come up with was not dying when his curse rebounded upon him. 

Sarah fascinated her. It wasn't so much that she was a Riddle, but that she was also deaf and had dealt with her deafness by becoming a bitter, calculating, conniving woman. With a family like that, it was almost no wonder that Voldemort had turned out so evil.

Why had the Mother Superior given her this? There did not seem to be any really useful information, other than a good read. She wasn't certain what part of it could possibly be of interest to Severus.

The next morning at breakfast, Sirius plopped down next to Hermione and cheerfully waved to Eleanor. "How the hell did you get here?"

"Connections. So, how's the limp?" Sirius had been hurt in a flying motorcycle accident the year before.

"Gone, gone. It's good to see you, El."

"Humph. That remains to be seen." Eleanor saw Sir Nicholas across the room, and waved to the assembled as she left to join him at the Gryffindor table.

"What was that all about?" Sirius asked Hermione.

Her only response was a shrug. She was sure that Eleanor was treating both of the men in Hermione's life coldly because of the craziness of the weekend's activities, which Hermione had related to her before.

"What are you doing for dinner?" Sirius was trying, she had to give him credit. She reached for her notebook, and wrote: "James/Severus bonding time."

Sirius shook his head and patted her hand, and said nothing more. At that moment, an owl flew overhead, dropping a large letter with the seal of Azkaban in Hermione's lap. She tore it open apprehensively. She blanched, looking over at Severus who was sitting on her right side and back at Sirius on the left.

She motioned them both over, and stilled them from their comments to one another as she wrote two words on her pad:

"Voldemort escaped."

~*~

"Father," Thomas said.

In the few days that Voldemort and the younger version of Tom Riddle had spent together, they'd agreed on the convention of "Father" and "Thomas" for names. While the former wasn't technically true, and the younger version had never been called any variation of Tom, they figured it for the least confusing method of address.

Voldemort was utterly amazed at the ferocious adolescent insolence inherent in his younger self. The adoptive parents had been deliciously horrid to the child, probably worse than his grandmother had ever been. It would be all too easy to bring down those who had imprisoned Voldemort, seek revenge on a few choice individuals, and take over the world for keeps this time. He wasn't foolish enough to think that bitch Granger wasn't aware of his son's presence; while he was utterly amazed that the old fool Dumbledore had chosen the woman to succeed him, he practically retched at the thought of that traitor Snape assisting her. And a son? Disgusting, but the fact was, the child would be a perfect way to fell the parents both in one stroke, and his power could surely be perverted to Dark ends with ease considering the boy's tender age.

It was all too exciting, just like the early days of his first rise to power. But first, there were a few people who needed to pay and pay dearly, and the dementors that had remained loyal would get their rewards. Granger. Snape. Potter. Narcissa Malfoy. And that utter bastard, Draco Malfoy.

The dementors were salivating, if such a thing were possible. There was no soul more tender and delicious to Kiss than one who was merged with the Holy Spirit. If one was a Dementor and tasted such a marvelous wonder, they would achieve a state where they did not hunger again and had free will to roam and do as they pleased without finding humans to feed upon. When evil conquers good, the consequences can be unpredictable; Dementors had died attempting raids on the Order's members when they were unprotected within the convent's walls. Within their coven they likened it to Muggle heroin; the most glorious high, but potential disaster. The five Dementors that had remained loyal to Voldemort were in search of this experience, and were remarkably patient. The hour was near, and they would be rewarded.

Over the last days, Voldemort had filled Thomas in on his part in the plan. The youth remained sullen, but nodded at the appropriate times, and fire burned in his eyes. Voldemort couldn't be certain of the compliance of the boy yet, but he would have ways to test and compel his loyalty before he let him get on the Hogwarts Express in a few days.

"We have to make you a pitiful soul in need of saving, Thomas. Make Granger and all her cohorts go Gryffindor on you. Let you get close to the boy. Really, how that old idiot Albus let all those Gryffindors get on the staff is a mystery to me, but it makes the school weak. There's only one bloody Slytherin left on staff. Foolish man. He had to put a Gryffindor in charge of Hufflepuff House, he's so biased…"

"This concerns me how?" Thomas said.

"Weakness! You need to know it and exploit it!" Voldemort said angrily.

"Remind me why the Slytherin isn't on our side again?"

"Because he is a fool, and he will be killed for it. He could have had it all, Thomas, and he turned traitor."

"There is nothing worse on this earth than someone who stabs you in the back. Right, Father?"

"Loyalty must be unquestioned, son. Is yours?"

"What do I get out of this?"

Voldemort had waited for this moment, when the boy stopped smoldering and asked the pertinent question.

"Thomas, you get to rule the world. Isn't that enough?"

"Not really."

"Girls, fame, glory, killing those who oppose you? No?"

"Let me think on it. No."

"No? Sometimes I wonder if you and I are really cut from the same genetic cloth. What are you passionate about, boy?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I feel nothing but hate." Voldemort started. At least the boy was honest, but it was difficult to motivate someone who had unfocused anger and no wish for pleasure as reward.

"What do you hate?"

"My former parents, but they're dead. You. Hogwarts and the Gryffindors. The traitor. I wish you all death and destruction." Thomas pulled on a lock of hair nonchalantly, watching for the older man's reaction.

Voldemort smiled a thin, evil smile, and clapped Thomas on the back. "That can all be arranged, boy. Even me." He held out Thomas' new wand, purchased through backchannels rather than Ollivander's to keep Voldemort's identity secret. "Kill me."

Without hesitation, Thomas Riddle pointed his wand at Voldemort, and said, "_Avada Kedavra"_.


	7. Chapter 7

Voldemort laughed out loud, a high, keening laugh. Thomas stared at the older man, frustrated, and threw down his wand. The curse had bounced off harmlessly.

"It was past time for a lesson, my dear boy, about effectively throwing Unforgivable curses. You must be focused on one thing to be able to use that curse effectively. You listed off about six things you hated before you tried to kill me. Had you focused your anger and hate on me rather than blind unfocused rage, who knows? I'd have more than a nosebleed, anyway."

Thomas clenched and unclenched his hands, willing his father dead for his treachery. He _knew_, and let him make a fool of himself.

"Good," Voldemort said, "We might be able to harness your power yet. We haven't much time, before we put you on the train. I have a lot to teach you in a short time, so let's not stop now."

*~*

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Harry Potter sat at the edge of the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, idly throwing small stones into the edge of the water and talking about the state of affairs around the school. The Ministry had just issued official orders to Harry to stay at Hogwarts until the younger Voldemort could be identified and isolated, mostly for the protection of the new Headmistress and the school. There were likely to be other Aurors assigned to the school now that Voldemort had escaped; rogue Dementors were nothing to trifle with, much less the Crown Prince of Evil on the loose after ten years.

"Unbelievable that Voldemort was planning this for _years_. Here we thought the game was up, and it was still afoot. Amazing," Harry was saying.

"Well," Sirius said, "It probably was a little too good to be true. Too neat and tidy. We'd gotten complacent."

"Too true," Remus said, stretching out and changing the subject. "Hermione was called away to the ministry this morning, and she left James with his father rather than Dobby and El. Think we ought to poke our noses in on them and see what mischief they're up to?"

"Piss on it," Sirius said sulkily.

"She's not _with_ him, Sirius," Harry said quietly, "but he is James' father. Even if the two of you ended up together, you'll have to deal with that fact."

"I really don't want to talk about it," Sirius growled. "I'm giving her space."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Harry said. "That might work against you, you know. Hermione is a woman of action, and let's face it, she's had enough of the faceless angst to last a lifetime."

"Oh, Harry," Remus said, "I really think that in this case Sirius is doing the right thing. She has to work through this mess on her own."

"Whose side are you on?" Harry turned on Remus, flushed. "Everyone knows you and Snape are mates now. To think…"

"Oh yes, Harry," Remus said in a less-than-mild tone, "and romantic advice from you is _so_ seasoned and spot-on."

"Yes, indeed, since you've had such a successful relationship that your woman went screaming off in the direction of _Lucius Malfoy_."

"At least I've _had _a relationship with a woman…"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin. It's not a pissing contest." Sirius patted Harry on the head, "but thank you for your support. I'm trying to be patient for the first time in my post-Azkaban life. It's not easy, but I have to do it. I need her to be free and clear of all external influences, or we'll just end up with painfully broken hearts. If she finds her way back to Snape again, so be it. I care about the woman and have no wish to see her hurt."

"Perhaps that's the first intelligent thing I've ever heard you say, Black," said a silky, amused voice from behind them.

"UNCLES!!!!" said a six-year old fireball, throwing himself on their fallen log and nearly knocking them over with hugs and adoration. "Daddy's just been showing me the places where he goes to pick berries and mushrooms. Look! Look!" James held up a garden gnome ensconced in a case, angrily shaking its little fist. "Daddy said I could let it out in Professor Longbottom's…"

"James, that was supposed to be our little secret," Snape said in a mock-whisper, putting a hand on the boy's head. Sirius gaped at Harry, open-mouthed. Was that merriment dancing in Severus Snape's eyes? A smile on his lips? Fifteen years, at least, had fallen off the man's face as he gazed at his son.

"I won't tell," whispered Sirius in James' ear. James hugged his uncles and ran towards the lake, a few pebbles in hand to skip in the clear water.

"Harry," Remus said, "I have something to show you up at the castle."

"Can't it wait?" Harry said.

"Don't be thick, Harry. Go on," Sirius said.

Snape sat on the log next to Sirius, watching his son skip stones in uneasy silence for a moment.

"Black, as much as it pains me to say this, I must. I made peace with Lupin years ago. I wish to call a truce, and make peace with you, as well."

Sirius's eyes flew wide. He'd expected smirky remarks, not an olive branch. "You'd forgive me my youthful indiscretion?"

"If you'll forgive mine."

"What about Hermione?"

Snape sighed. "The only person she controls is herself. As you so aptly put it when you dressed Potter down, it's not a pissing contest. I'll be this boy's father, body, mind, and soul, but you are very close to him and to his mother. Therefore, it is important to me to maintain a civil relationship with you."

"This has to be enormously difficult for you, Snape."

"You have _no_ idea." It was said with only the barest hint of a sneer.

Sirius considered for a minute, and then held out his hand. They clasped briefly, as they had done after Voldemort had been resurrected after the Triwizard Tournament those many years before; but this time, the discomfort and loathing were gone.

Perhaps, Sirius mused, time really did heal all wounds.

"Just don't go all Gryffindor on me and force me to participate in your cheering-up sessions gone awry on too frequent of a basis. You know how awful my hangovers can be."

"Indeed," Sirius chuckled.

*~*

The week passed quickly, and before you could say Quidditch, the new school year was upon them. With trembling anticipation, the staff of Hogwarts awaited the new class of incoming students with a dread most had never felt.

Harry, Ron, Seamus Finnegan, and Padma Patil were providing security this year. Padma, only a first-year Auror after abandoning a promising career as a singer, could produce the second most splendid Patronus in England (after Harry's stag), so she seemed especially suited to join the team even with her relative inexperience. Ron couldn't be in the same room with her Patronus without turning green, however; it was the same size, shape, and ferocity of Aragog. However, since Harry was in charge of security detail, he nicked Ron for a bit of "old times' sake" from his regular duties.

"Miss Chang," Snape smirked as he took his usual seat beside her at the Head Table. "What, no dragonhide boots this year?"

"Sod off, Snape," she said curtly. Charlie Weasley suppressed a giggle, and said, "I know where you can get them cheap, you know."

"Don't take his side," Cho said. Harry walked by on his way to check security on the staff side of the Great Hall, and Cho greeted him, nearly falling over herself to chase him out of the room.

"Disgusting," Ron said, walking up to clap his older brother Charlie on the back. "Fifteen years ago Harry worshipped the ground she walked on and she wouldn't give him the bloody time of day. Now she's mooning over him."

Headmistress Granger walked in just then, holding the hand of a six-year-old boy whom she seated with a prefect at the Gryffindor table (much to Snape's chagrin) as she walked up to the Head Table and took her place. The students began filing in as she placed the Sorting Hat on the table. Every teacher's eye was on the first years, escorted in this year by Professor Lupin.

Snape passed a small piece of parchment to Hermione, who read it and nodded once at him. _I'll need it_, she thought, as she read it again.

_Come down for a nightcap_, the note read. _I've gotten something out of that Riddle diary that might just interest you._

Eleanor and Sir Nicholas floated in and sat together at the Gryffindor table next to James. Remus led the first years up to the front, and began placing the Sorting Hat on each of their heads in turn.

What alias would the boy travel under? Which one of the seven boys was it?

Hermione had a photo of the first Tom Riddle, but none of the boys looked quite like the photo. That wasn't surprising. Even with a clone, environment was everything. How the boy was brought up could influence his appearance. The young Tom Riddle had light brown hair, flawless features, and a stout frame. There was a thin, tall boy with black hair, a short blond boy, several brown-haired but not particularly attractive boys, and one with shocking red hair that was George Weasley's oldest, George Junior.

There were only two boys remaining, and the boy called "Robbins, Errol" sat down. The hat perched on the tall, thin boy with the shocking black hair, multiple piercings and tattoos, and began to mutter.

"I've sorted you before, but how can that be? Time travel? Well, you were well sorted before, but I can't help but wonder if I placed you differently if you might turn out differently this time."

"Don't be daft, you ridiculous hat," the boy said. "You know damn well where I belong if you know who I really am."

The hat twitched peculiarly in a signal to the Headmistress that he had found their target. Hermione nodded to Harry and mouthed, "We have a winner."

"Are you so sure," the hat continued, "You have loads of foolish bravery and no particular desire to better yourself. You're different than the man from which you came; he was all about ambition and cunning. I see in you only fear and despair which you manifest in foolhardiness."

"Are they paying you to counsel, or sort, you fucking hat?"

"Ooookay, 'Errol', if you're sure. GRYFFINDOR!" said the hat, extra loudly to emphasize the absurdity of the statement.

Hermione and Severus had the good sense not to gape at the hat, but the rest of the adults in the hall couldn't help it. Remus looked at the hat and back at the Headmistress as if to say, "This hat is in dire need of a defibrillator and lidocaine. Stat." Remus recovered long enough to put the hat on the remaining boy's head, half-expecting it to put the first Weasley in Slytherin. The hat only chuckled, and whispered to George Weasley Jr., "Everyone thinks I'm mental, but I assure you I'm still in charge. You're a Gryffindor through-and-through like the rest of your family, and I daresay I see enough mischief to know exactly which branch of the family you're from. GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted as to drive home the point that it wasn't off its rack in the sorting of Errol Robbins, aka Thomas Riddle.

Thomas had remained standing at the foot of the Gryffindor table, conditioned to loathe them all by his flesh and blood. Watching them laugh and joke amongst each other, he looked longingly over at the Slytherin table. Father wasn't going to like this at all. Suddenly a hand clapped on his back. The redhead, George Weasley.

"Siddown, mate," George said, "and tell me about yourself."

At the Head Table, shock had turned to wonder as everyone watched the dark-haired, pale clone-of-Voldemort boy and the animated son-of-Mischief redhead lose themselves in conversation, quickly becoming absorbed in each other's company as they animatedly discussed something.

"Something very fishy is going on," Professor Black said in Professor Snape's direction, catching Hermione's eye.

"On the contrary," Headmistress Granger said out loud, startling everyone at the table, most of whom had not heard her voice in many years. "I think something is going our way, and Merlin knows how many times that might happen in the upcoming months. Professor Snape, if you would? I think your prefects can take it from here." They stood to go, pausing to collect their son for the walk to the dungeons.

A/N: Lots of good juicy stuff in the next chapter. Stay tuned! Sorry that the story disappeared of ff.net for a week. They never explained why but I upped the rating from PG-13 to R now that I've republished, so maybe that was the problem and they'll leave this alone. Thanks so much for your lovely reviews :) Keep them coming!


	8. Chapter 8

At an uncharacteristic loss for words, Snape led the Headmistress and their son down to his chambers. Hermione seemed lost in thought, so Severus sat with James next to him on the sofa, and began to read a book that the two of them had been working on together, _The Little Prince_. James yawned a few times, and before the next paragraph was read, his head drooped against his father's shoulder. Feeling that unfamiliar surge of fatherly affection again (who ever would have guessed? It was truly the shock of his life), Severus picked the boy up and carried him into the spare room he had set up with a bed for just this occasion. He untangled the boy's arms from his neck, brushed back the hair that was so much like his own, and smiled..another unfamiliar sensation that would take some getting used to. The small wonder that was James brought out pieces of Severus Snape that even he did not realize were possible, much less actually there in the first place yearning to be released.

He returned to his sitting room, where she had opened a bottle of his wine and conjured a couple of glasses. Pouring each of them a rather full glass, she lifted the glass in a toast. Her voice was clear, unwavering, and bright as she toasted simply, "To the one who helped me find my voice again. Thank you."

For the second time that night, it was all he could do to keep from gawking at her. "I did no such thing; what are you on about?"

"I am no longer afraid, Severus, and I intend to live my life in spite of my handicaps rather than hiding behind them as I've done for years. I stopped teaching, stopped talking, kept leaning on others rather than listening. I thought I couldn't hear, you see, but I was quite mistaken. I can. Not in the conventional sense, of course, but I've realized that what I've lost is rather minor and easily overcome. I made it into a large obstacle. When Dumbledore damn near forced me to take this job, I was irked at his meddling and felt duty-bound rather than any real sense of challenge or joy. Now, I have to admit that he had my best interests at heart."

Snape said nothing, trying to squash his familiar and uncomfortable feelings for her, but finding it harder by the minute to do so.

"It took me a while to finally see the grand picture in all this, but when I saw that young version of Tom Riddle with that ludicrous hat on his head tonight waiting to fulfill his destiny as a pawn in the Game, I could view the whole thing with more clarity than at any point in the last few years. We can't run from the past. I need to charge forward into the future, as I did when I was younger. I've been hiding. I dug my heels in when I became disabled. I withdrew from nearly everyone but a child, a ghost, a house-elf, and a handful of geographically distant friends. I'm through with feeling sorry for myself and I won't be mute, ever again. I *could* speak, I was simply afraid. I *could* hear, by virtue of the ability to read lips and facial expressions and body language - something most hearing people won't ever master as well as I. If you hadn't brought me out of my shell by your actions in the last few days, I wouldn't have been able to speak tonight in front of everyone. But thanks to you, it wasn't even an effort; I knew you were there supporting me.

These are extraordinary times; we're facing He Who Will Not Be Defeated and his ill-begotten progeny, and yet we have such strength on our side that I know we will prevail. I won't be a weak link in needless anguish, and I feel I have you to thank."

This was ludicrous, of course. He had nothing to do with her sudden turn around; they'd been professional and courteous to one another after the first weekend she was back, but there hadn't been anything special about their conversations, which had almost exclusively centered around Thomas Riddle, Voldemort, and the mundane tasks for back-to-school. Nothing special, really, other than the fact that she watched him carefully so as not to miss a nuance, and she spoke to him when no one else had heard her voice for years. 

"We've been given an opportunity tonight, Severus, with the hat's unusual decision. Voldemort's plans are already going awry, you can bet on it, and he will now be around people for perhaps the first time in his life that are not looking for anything from him other than honesty, bravery, and friendship. It's our job to guide these children, not force the issue. And we can start by setting an appropriate example at all levels of the faculty and staff." She was all business again, which made him feel a twinge of regret. The tables had truly turned; he could remember when this woman was his wide-eyed young student, and now she was the one in charge. Somehow, this didn't make him feel at all put-upon as he had expected it might.

"Hermione," he began, unsure of himself, "I am flattered. I..."

She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not spouting platitudes. You know me, I was never one for that."

His Inner Bastard had gone strangely silent.

"You're a good man; I never realized how good until I saw you with our son. I had cursed you many a time, and you probably deserved it. But I am confident that with you here, James will become a good man as well. I am proud he is your son, Severus, and I thank you." She took another swig of wine, feeling it in her toes, and smiled. "Don't worry, I won't throw myself at you. The past is the past and I'm looking forward, now. I don't know where that path leads, but finding myself again and learning to live with what life has handed me is an evolving process in which I've only had the first of many epiphanies, I assure you. I think I'm happy, for the first time since I moved to New York, and I just wanted to give you some credit because I know you have been engaging in your peculiar self-loathing ritual. Let it go. You were an unbelievable bastard, but I had culpability in the past too. It's time for a fresh start."

She clearly had no idea that the words she delivered so blithely were having such an impact on Severus, other than his inability to form a coherent sentence. He simply closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to process what she was attempting to tell him, and failing.

She smiled, seeing his consternation. "There's nothing to figure out, Severus. No hidden agenda. I'm not Dumbledore, but I know how we need to play the Game and whatever happens in our personal lives, so be it. As long as our son remains safe, and Voldemort's son is not a threat, our lives will have come full circle. And no, the Spirit isn't speaking through me today. I haven't heard a whisper from her in the last few weeks...I've come to understand that I don't hear from her when she thinks things are going right. I have to believe, then, that we're on the right track."

Severus finally found himself. "So then, the insufferable know-it-all Hermione Granger blesses the rest of us with her vocalizations...oh, how I relish this moment..."

She laughed, a genuine, infectious, damn-it-all-but-she-was-sexy-and-this-wasn't-supposed-to-happen-again laugh. "There's the Severus Snape I know and love. We'll be all right, all of us, as long as you're a son of a bitch. It lends normalcy to an otherwise very strange situation."

She stood up then, and he quickly stood as well. "I suppose I could carry James back up to his room, then, now, if there's nothing else on your mind...?"

"Oh!" he exclaimed, startling her. "The Riddle Diary. There is something in there that I think we overlooked; it was cryptic, but the more I read it, the more I began to understand. It's about her obsession with a cure for her deafness; I think she was on the right track when she died, and I do believe her grandson is the key. But asking what is required of Voldemort...well, it could never come to pass."

Hermione's eyebrows raised. "But Voldemort isn't the only Tom Riddle, anymore, and...?"

"Very perceptive, Hermione. I think that our young reluctant Gryffindor could play a part in restoring your hearing, if Madam Riddle's research was as accurate as it seems to be."

"Assuming I'm even interested in pursuing that route, you mean." Hermione had suddenly turned hard. Snape realized that after her epiphany, coming to terms with her deafness, that she might suddenly feel reluctant about a cure. It was a fairly common reaction, surely; the devil you know, rather than the devil you don't.

"If you'll grant me leave to conduct some research...you may not be interested, but this could be a significant contribution to healing others with magical maladies that affect the senses. I believe the old woman was on to something." He knew appealing to her pragmatic, all-in-the-cause-of-science self would allow him to proceed. The effort paid off when she nodded, once, and sank back down in the chair, her legs suddenly failing her.

"Are you all right?" He sank to his knees next to her.

She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she put her hands on each side of his face, hovering near to her chair.

"You always know the right way to appeal to me, don't you? You won't let me run from anything and you're going to make me stick with the reinvented brave Gryffindor Headmistress, aren't you?"

He smiled for the first time that evening, and took her hands in his. "I owe you that much, as insufferable as Gryffindor Headmasters are. I have an enormous amount of catching up to do. But I confess that my reluctance to consort with Gryffindors is sorely tested by you, Hermione Granger. I even made my peace with Black yesterday."

Her eyes opened wider. "Really? Will miracles never cease?" Her lips parted again to speak, and then she hesitated, obviously pondering something, but not wishing to share it. He waited, stroking her palm absently with his thumb; marveling that after all he had done to be stupid, that she was sharing his wine and his company again. It was something too precious to let go this time. He'd been given a second lease on life, and Sirius Black, Spirit, and Ghosts be damned, he wasn't going to push her away again.

She stood, abruptly releasing his hands. "I should be getting back. I'll just go and collect James, shall I?"

"Stay." There was a note of desperation in his tone that she would never hear.

The brave Gryffindor cradled his cheek with her hand, knowing how much they both needed what he was offering. There wasn't a hesitation for her, really, other than the gnawing guilt over Sirius Black in the back of her mind. Sirius had been there for her so many times, and while she was now putting the past behind her to walk on into the future, he deserved a clean break. But one night, before she talked to him...what would it hurt...

She'd been devastated by this man in front of her before...didn't that deserve a second look?

Not right now, she thought, as she walked into his arms.

~*~

Sirius Black sat in the shadows near the door to the Headmistress's suite of rooms, waiting for her to come back from her meeting with Snape. He'd watched her walk out of the Great Hall with narrowed eyes; despite his assurances to all and sundry that he was giving her space, jealousy was eating at him. He knew the "space" was something that Snape wouldn't give, especially with the all-too-convenient excuse of a child to bring them together.

He was aware it was a losing battle going in, but he'd be damned if he'd let Snape win so easily.

Much later, he started awake from uneasy slumber. He'd fallen asleep at some late hour, and was not sure if she had slipped past him into her chambers. She never would have seen him from his vantage point in the shadows in the hall beyond her door.

Did he dare knock? Had she ever returned? Surely...

Perhaps it was best not to know. He could make his move tomorrow; let her know how much he cared for her, and do his best to try and wrest control of her personal time from that infernal Slytherin in the dungeons. He'd allowed the man to make peace with him, but was under no illusion that they'd ever be actual friends.

Damn her for even considering going back to that bastard. He'd known her heart belonged to Snape when he allowed himself to get too close. It was stupid that he had even gone there. She'd gone back in time to save him as a child, but times had changed.

_Sirius, you'd go to the ends of the earth to defend her, but you'll never have her love while he's around. It's time to move on and let her live in peace._

He stalked down the corridor to his own rooms, unaware that he was being followed.

~*~

Thomas had been given clear instructions, and sullen as he was, he realized the power of the dark man who had lent his DNA to Thomas' heretofore miserable existence. He was nothing to look at, of course, but over his short eleven years Thomas had easily seen that looks weren't everything. The Headmistress was a young woman who was nothing special, until you saw the aura around her and heard her voice. He'd felt an eerie pull towards the woman, which felt warming and calm rather than repulsive as he thought it might be. His "mother", the woman who had adopted and then abused him as a child, was a cold woman with no particular redeeming qualities. It really didn't cause him any pain to think of her and her death; he'd felt nothing at all when they died, not even a hint of remorse at their passing. Once he'd been given to understand why his life had been so deliberately miserable, in preparation for his role as some kind of twisted anti-Christ in a war between the ubiquitous forces of Good and Evil, he didn't feel any compulsion to reach out to the man who had saved him. There was plenty of hate in his heart, and where any other feelings might dwell, a curious emptiness had reigned.

His attraction towards the warmth the Headmistress radiated was the first real positive emotion he could ever remember having. It startled and disquieted the normally dispassionate boy. Much of the tattered remains of his soul yearned for more of her presence, a word with her, her soothing demeanor washing over him and curing the deep wounds left by the absence of love in his young life. For an instant, she made him lose his steely resolve to see his father's plans through, sacrificing himself on the altar to assist the Dark Lord, such as he was in his current state, to rise again. 

It would have been easy to follow the old man, he realized very early, for despite Thomas' insistence that power didn't matter, the bald fact was that it was seductive and dangerous. The more Voldemort told him about the Death Eaters and his grand plans for the world, the more Thomas resigned himself to the cause, if for no other reason than he couldn't see obvious alternatives. It wasn't until the Sorting Hat showed Thomas the first chink in Voldemort's armor, and he saw the subsequent brilliant and welcoming smile on the Headmistresses face -- a smile clearly meant for him, possibly the first genuine smile he'd seen in his life -- that he could grasp other possibilities.

His mind was that of a very intelligent but twisted eleven year old, to be sure - but even he could see the grand play, the dance that had existed since the dawn of time between the Bad Guys and the Good Guys. Half his obsession with the Beatles had been the irony of the Force-Of-Good Lennon's death at the hands of an evil, twisted man; the untimely death of the peaceful saint George Harrison to the insidious disease of cancer. He had, from an early age, found the devil's triumph over the angels seductive, subversive, and intensely disturbing. Now he was being asked to play the largest role in the final triumph of the worst Devil in an age. Up until that incident in the Great Hall, it all seemed worthy and the natural culmination of a life-long obsession with death and destruction.

Until the Gryffindors got him. The Headmistress, Professor Lupin, and that boy George Weasley. There was a triumph and an air of superiority in all of them, but a genuine interest in him and a trust he had never felt.

Deeply disturbing as all this was to Thomas, at the moment he immersed himself in the role of Voldemort's spy, tailing Professor Black. Voldemort's sources had revealed the little love triangle within the ranks at Hogwarts; Thomas was to ingratiate himself with Black, sowing discord and discontent as a wedge to create a rift in the power structure. Voldemort knew that Snape and the Headmistress were lost causes, but Black's interest in Granger could easily be exploited. He'd been in Azkaban, and was rumored to be quite unstable. And, being Potter's godfather and Lupin's best friend, he was in a position to deliver all the goods to Voldemort that he so craved. Black was the key.

Black had waited for hours outside the Headmistress's door, and then gone home. Not much to report, but it was a start, Thomas thought as he stole back to the Gryffindor dormitories, used the illegally obtained Time Turner to get back to a decent hour, and shed the even more illegally obtained Invisibility Cloak to calmly give the password to the Fat Lady. No one was the wiser, but he couldn't help but feel a tiny stab of conscience at the back of his head. These people had been nothing but kind, so far.

_No_, he thought. _This is your destiny, you idiot. Don't falter now._

He squashed that last bit of thought, and retired to his new bed alongside George Weasley, who was already peacefully snoring with an arm thrown over a pillow, without a care in the world.

~*~

Hermione lay beside Severus, their bodies intertwined in a lovers' caress that was as unbearably tender as any they'd experienced. The years had fallen away for both of them as they reacquainted themselves. Any misgivings were erased within their lovemaking, which was remarkably unhurried after so much time apart. 

He was holding her as if he didn't deserve this kind of reconciliation, but she kissed his worries away. Things were definitely looking up.


	9. Chapter 9

"Moooooooom!!! I'm HUNGRY!!!" a cheerful voice announced at the crack of dawn the next day. Knowing his mother would never wake just from the announcement, the owner of the voice shook her vigorously for good measure.

Hermione rolled over, trying to remember where she was, and it all came back to her; startled, she looked into the eyes of her son only inches away from hers, and noted wryly the amused smile he was wearing. How to explain this - looking at the man laying beside her, just stirring - to a six-year old?

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said. For a moment, she thought wonderingly at how easily speaking came to her now. She had Severus to thank for so many things, not the least of which was helping her to see that her life could be quite as it was before the accident. She had cut herself off so neatly, she had thought, but she had discovered her voice again.

James, still unaccustomed to speaking to his mother after growing up only using sign language, made the signs for his hunger pains. He then gestured towards his father, who was now awake and watching Hermione's mixed emotions about the situation with both amusement and sympathy.

"James," Severus said, "get dressed and I shall accompany you to breakfast."

"Okay, Dad," James said, skipping away. Hermione looked gratefully at Severus, and said, "I guess he's taking this development in his usual stride."

"Indeed," was Severus' only comment. "I'll look after his breakfast and walk to school. If I'm not very much mistaken, you'll have your work cut out for you this morning. Knowing how Black stalks you, I seriously doubt he is unaware that you did not return last night."

Hermione's only reaction was to sigh and kiss Severus' forehead, gather her robes around her, and disappear through the fireplace.

~*~

An amused Eleanor was waiting in the Headmistress' office. "Late night, darling?"

"Well..."

"Sirius was waiting for you till all hours." 

"I don't have to explain anything to him." Hermione was just a tad annoyed, mostly at herself for being so weak as to not have ended Sirius' hopes before she rekindled old acquaintances. But she was suddenly becoming annoyed at Eleanor's extended and rather odd visit, though she couldn't put a finger on why that was.

"Hmmm...well, at any rate, our young man Thomas Riddle the Younger is following Sirius. One of the portraits that I've become friendly with saw this and let me know. I thought you might be able to use the information. And yes, I'm dying to know about where you were last night, but I won't pry. Just know that I'm here if you need me."

Hermione cocked one eyebrow. "You've never told me why, or how, you are here. Really."

"I'm wounded, Hermione," Eleanor said nervously. "I'm here to be with you, of course."

"Humph. I know full well that ghosts have to move heaven and earth, literally, to be able to travel away from their home areas. I know you said you called in a favor, but that seems pretty thin considering the strings that have to be pulled to make something like this happen for so long. Most spirits would have been forced to travel back home by now. What gives? I have a right to know."

"I had hoped you wouldn't ask, but I cannot lie to you." Eleanor looked genuinely remorseful, knowing full well how independent the Headmistress was and how upset her next words would make Hermione. "I've...er...it's a bit hard to explain, but your Spirit is keeping me here. You know how you haven't heard the Spirit inside you since you became Headmistress?" At Hermione's shocked look, the ghost continued, "The Spirit believed that you had stopped listening to her, but she knows well your feelings and objections to hearing voices in your head. It is not a good time to stop listening to the Gift you were given; so, she has taken up residence in a different form."

"You?" Hermione said incredulously. "You're a spirit that is possessed by another spirit? How is such a thing possible?"

Eleanor chuckled nervously, and said, "With God, all things are possible, they say. I'm not possessed, I'm still the ghost of Eleanor Roosevelt, but the Spirit's wishes are made known to me, and I communicate them with you as myself. Really, she saw that I have always had your best interests at heart. Hermione, I'm sorry..."

"I simply don't know who I'm talking to now - is it my old friend Eleanor, or that bitch of a Spirit who doesn't believe in free will and self-determination?" Hermione said coldly.

"Hermione," Eleanor said rather desperately, "It's just me. The Spirit is helping me stay, and in exchange, I remind you of what you already know so well..."

"Save it, El, I can't deal with one more supernatural mumbo-jumbo right now. I'm sorry," Hermione said in a somewhat less hostile tone, "I just need some time to digest this."

Eleanor Roosevelt was a great woman in her day, and the greatest women know when it's time to make a graceful exit. She simply vanished, leaving the Headmistress alone with her thoughts till midday.

Dobby entered. "Sirius Black is here mistress, to see you."

"Tell him I'm busy. Tell him anything..." She was in no mood and was feeling uncharacteristically muddle-headed.

Three minutes later, Dobby reappeared. "Sorry to bother you, Headmistress, but there is a student that is wanting to see you, miss, right outside."

"Who is it, Dobby? I'm not feeling particuarly up to company..."

"It's the Weasley first year, Headmistress...George Junior."

Hermione indulged a second's reminiscence about the boy's father and uncles, and wondered if the son would turn out more like Percy or like the Wonder Twins. "Send him in, and thank you very much for looking after me, Dobby."

"I is happy to look after my Mistress! And Dobby keeps her secrets, yes, even when Sirius Black tries to find out where my Mistress is last night, Dobby says..."

"That's quite enough, thank you so much Dobby," Hermione said. She wasn't sure why she was feeling so upset and irritated today, but it was catching up to her in waves. Maybe it was the night spent in the company of Tall, Dark, and Snarky.

George Weasley walked in, clearly intimidated by the room. "Sit down, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said. "May I help you?"

The young redhead nervously and visibly cleared his throat twice.

"Tea, Mr. Weasley?"

"Uh...no...well ma'am, it's about Errol." George fiddled with his robes, and looked down at his feet for a full minute.

"...your fellow Gryffindor first year..." Or Thomas Riddle, properly. Hermione was growing impatient despite herself, and mentally trying to brush away the beginnings of what was sure to be a whopper of a migraine. When had her day started to go downhill? She woke up next to a lover she had cherished greatly at one time, and in the company of her beloved son who was the child of the erstwhile lover. She was beginning to come to terms with her disability and had done far more in the past few years than she'd thought possible. Some days she forgot she even had a disability, because lipreading and speaking were becoming second nature - she could probably fool most people into thinking she wasn't hearing-impaired at all.

Yet, ever since Eleanor's confession, she'd felt as if she were in a spiral of manipulation, deceit, and confusion that threatened to be almost as thick as the Order of the Phoenix's manipulation of Harry in their fifth year. She needed to clear her head desperately, but had to hear the Weasley boy out first.

"He was...talking in his sleep...last night," George said haltingly.

"Mr. Weasley, my boy, your father was far more gregarious than this...there is no need to be intimidated by me. What did Errol say?" 

"I couldn't make it all out, but it was mostly about Voldemort, power, and revenge. Those words came through clearly."

"And?" Hermione said, "You would have gone to your Head of House if you didn't think it was important enough to come up here, right?" The headache was beginning to overcome any ability to be tactful, but she struggled to try again. "Go on, son."

"I...I believe that Voldemort...that Errol's dream was that he was working for Voldemort against you. He said, at one point..." trailing off to breathe, "He said..."

Hermione could sense the nervousness increasing through her fog. "It's all right, Mr. Weasley, whatever he said won't shock me."

"...filthy Mudblood bitch, we'll make her pay, won't we Thomas? Black is the key." George's face was seven shades more crimson.

Hermione rubbed her temples. "Mr. Weasley, you've done me a great favor by telling me about Errol's dreams. You've confirmed what we have been dreading. And now, I'd like to ask you for two additional favors."

George nodded, a hint of worry flashing across his eleven-year-old face as he looked at the Headmistress. She looked in great pain, and her eyes were turning an alarming shade of red.

"One - if anything else unusual happens with Errol, keep me informed. And continue to be his friend, George...he will need friendship, I suspect, and he probably has never had real friends before. Secondly...run and fetch Madam Pomfrey...I should think I..." With those words, the Headmistress lost consciousness and collapsed.

*~*

Sirius Black was staring at the ceiling, rather than getting ready for class.

He'd cancelled all his classes since he'd had the visitor that morning. He couldn't recall the visitor's name, but for the first time in months Sirius was happy. Joyful, really, and floating on air.

He had a purpose. He'd taken the first step.

"Sirius...oh, Sirius, something's happened, are you there?" Remus Lupin's head was in the fireplace.

Sirius shook off his dreamy expression. "Remus, what is it?"

"Headmistress is in the infirmary...unconscious..."

"Say no more, I'm on my way," Sirius said. After Remus was out of the fireplace, Sirius smirked.

Serves the bitch right.


	10. Chapter 10

I borrowed a bit from OotP...it's fun to have new toys to play with. There's no spoiler, just the appropriation of magical innovation.

~*~

"I came as soon as I heard," Harry was saying to Draco as Snape entered the Infirmary, weary after reading James a bedtime story and leaving him entrusted to Dobby and Eleanor. "Has there been any change?"

"Not since I arrived. Mother? You were here first," Draco paused, "well, after Sirius and Remus of course."

Narcissa looked pale and tired. "No change. Thank Merlin George's son was in the office when she collapsed...who knows what would have happened to the bleeding in her brain if Poppy hadn't..."

Sirius looked around at everyone as they discussed Hermione's condition. He felt vaguely conflicted, at the back of his brain, but he knew what he must do. It had been explained so well by the stranger whom he had met that morning.

"All you must do," the stranger said, "is put a simple charm on her brain to expand within her skull, in the left hemisphere. I'll give you a Self-Destructing Parchment with the instructions when I leave. The bleeding effect will be temporary but will render her unconscious for a time. She'll wake up completely cured. And you'll be able to tell her that you did it; the one she rejected. You'll be able to hurt Snape and her for their treachery without actually hurting them at all, at least in the long run."

Sirius was unaware that he had been rendered somewhat more susceptible to suggestion by the stranger, who was someone who had recently become very adept with various forms of the Imperius curse. It didn't do well to be heavy-handed in such delicate matters, of course, but just enough to stretch natural tendencies in the attempt to do something slightly out of character, and to be vague and more accepting than usual of a stranger's advice. With Sirius Black's well known hotheaded temper and his recent angst over the Headmistress, it wouldn't be _much_ of a stretch.

"Then, of course," the stranger continued, "you'll call all her friends to her bedside. All of them, mind you...all of her Spirit-brethren, in particular. They'll all need to be there when she wakes up."

"Won't her Spirit protect her from unusual charms?" Sirius had said, struggling to find a way to do something other than dumbly nod at the hooded figure whose face he never saw, whose name he never would remember.

"Oh," the man said in a darker tone, "Her Spirit has made a fatal mistake and left her body. Don't concern yourself."

Unfortunate, that. Dumbledore had given Hermione a few Chocolate Frogs. The new edition, in addition to having "Hermione Granger, Youngest Headmistress of Hogwarts" and "The Boy Who Lived: Harry Potter" cards, also had the rare foil "Dementor: Guard of Azkaban" card randomly inserted into packs. Hermione had been fortunate enough to get one of the rare cards, and had carelessly left it on her desk after showing it off to Harry and James. Once Eleanor had explained her presence to Hermione, the Dementor on the card (in the way of all wizarding portraits, having the ability to travel to other portraits of the same person or creature) went to tell his brother, who always kept a family photo in his cloak, the news; his brother, unfortunately for the Headmistress, was Voldemort's lieutenant.

And now, everyone that Voldemort despised the most and wanted to visit his vengeance on the most were in one room. All of the Children of the Spirit, except...

James.

Sirius shook his head, and looked nervously around the room. How to arrange this? Snape would never...

Snape. A surge of hatred shot through Sirius Black. Severus sensed it, and looked straight into Sirius' eyes. And suddenly, with clarity, he knew.

"Black," he said quietly, "join me?"

"Indeed," Sirius said in a low voice. He'd use this to his advantage somehow...subdue Snape, and go steal his son.

Harry watched them go with just a tinge of worry, and laid his hand on Hermone's head. Eleanor drifted through a wall just then.

"Narcissa...oh, Narcissa, this is all my fault." The First Lady looked as glum as a ghost could.

"What?"

"The Spirit is not in her anymore...she's with me...it must have been a horrible mistake..."

Everyone in the room regarded each other with horror. 

"Could someone have known that she was no longer protected?"

"Well...no one knows...I just told her this morning..."

Harry looked downright panicked, and said: "Where? Where did you tell her?"

"In her office. Why?"

"Oh, there are just about SEVEN THOUSAND PORTRAITS EAVESDROPPING IN THERE...Jesus."

Everyone's hearts sank.

"Fortunately," a voice said from the doorway behind a pair of twinkling blue eyes, "she got a Dumbledore card in her last pack of Chocolate Frogs..." 

~*~

Snape had Sirius pinned against a wall.

"You did this, Black. You did it. I can feel it from every pore."

"Believe it or not, you stupid git, I'm helping her."

"I seriously doubt..." Light dawned, and Snape raised his wand. "_Finite incantatem_."

"What..." Sirius shook his head, "oh, shit..."

"Yes. I recognized that little spell from the bad old days. You've seen Voldemort."

"No, actually...I haven't left the castle, and you know it's enchanted to not allow him in. Not possible..." Black was looking green around the gills.

"Not possible, eh? You've forgotten that Voldemort sleeps in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory now thanks to his namesake child. Did you see your attacker?"

"I...no, I never saw his face..."

"We need to protect James. Now."

*~*

"Dobby," the visitor was saying, "could you fetch me a cup of tea?"

It takes a powerful magic to bamboozle a house-elf, all the hooded wizard was capable of mustering at one time. But in the wink of an eye, James was safely in the cloak of the stranger, and Dobby returned a beat too late. His next stop was the castle walls, to drop the enchantment that guarded the gate against his genetic donor. He could feel his connection to Black was broken, and he would have to speed up the Plan, so it was important to have a hostage. Muttering all the way past the door of the Great Hall, he plowed head-on into George Weasley.

"You!" the hooded figure spat. "Out of bed, after hours? Go back to your dormitory! Now!"

"I wouldn't be a Weasley if I wasn't out of bed after hours, mate. My dad would drum me out of the school if I weren't causing trouble."

Despite himself, the figure in the cloak laughed. And regretted it.

"Errol?" George said incredulously. "But..."

"_Stupefy_," said Thomas Riddle. As George crumpled to the ground, a softer: "I'm sorry."

*~*

Sirius and Severus rushed into the infirmary. "Oh, Hermione, what have I done?" Sirius said, placing both hands on her temples, then reaching for his wand.

"Stop!" Draco and Harry said as they saw him point the wand at Hermione's head. Dumbledore, the newest arrival, silenced them with a look.

"_Finite incantatem._" No, it wasn't going to be that easy. And the Self-Destructing Parchment had, well, self-destructed.

"Forgive me, Hermione...Tom Riddle has done it again." Sirius sank to the floor, head in hands. "He said...it would cure her...God, I am an idiot...I just wanted her to love me and when I knew she had stayed with Snape..."

"Now is not the time for confessionals, Sirius," Dumbledore said mildly. "It appears that young James Granger collects Chocolate Frog cards as well. To the Hogwarts gates, everyone... Eleanor, I trust you can keep Hermione safe." No one found this comment odd, but Severus certainly understood what was meant. 

Snape looked down at his lover's comatose form again, and looked at Eleanor. "I'll send the Bloody Baron in here as we pass the Slytherin area on our way out. Send him if you have need of us." And much of the group that had, ten years ago, defeated Voldemort, went off to attempt to defeat him again.


	11. Chapter 11

It was much harder work than it seemed to be the genetic equivalent and heir apparent of the Dark Lord.

So much had gone wrong already; he had been lurking in the hall when somehow Snape had suspected Black's condition before he could get James in the same room with the others. Thomas had had to use every last ounce of magical energy he possessed to pull one over on the house elf and smuggle the child out. He was so, so tired; but only a few more moments, and his father would have access to all the remaining Children of the Spirit. 

Exhausted, Thomas dragged the Stunned child to the gates, where he would allow his father to take over the operation. He'd been properly brought up to not have a conscience; nonetheless, something pricked at the back of his neck at earlier having had to stun the only person who had ever attempted to be his friend. He'd spent a whole day listening to Beatles tunes with George Weasley, who had never heard them because of his wizarding background. "Bloody brilliant!" his enthusiastic new friend would say wonderingly after each tune. What would George think of him now...he knew that George's family had been instrumental in his father's previous downfalls.

He couldn't afford a conscience or the luxury of friends. He was here to restore Voldemort to full power by assisting in the murder of anyone who could oppose him. And then, when Voldemort achieved their goal, he would be primed to take his place at his right hand. It was that simple.

_If it's that ruddy simple,_ a small voice in the back of his mind said, _then why do you feel so crappy about it?_

_Shut UP._, Thomas replied nastily to the voice.

_And you're handing over a little boy to a murderer. Nice._

_Shut UP!!_

_Helping that psychopath murder all those people? The headmistress has been nothing but kind to you; can you not rise above your upbringing? Aren't you more than your genetic code? Didn't George tell you that Harry Potter lived among the worst sort of trashy Muggles who treated him worse than dirt, and yet here he is a ruddy SAINT?_

_Not likely. Leave me alone._

_Do you really want to be like Voldemort?_

_That's the million dollar fucking question, isn't it?_

_It's not as if there's much to recommend the bastard, right? How many times has he been defeated, anyway?_

_I'm not talking to you anymore, damn it..._

_Don't you know who I am, friend? I'm the Spirit. I dwell in you thanks to your mother - your real mother, not the trash that adopted you - Tom Riddle's mother. And yes, that means you do have a conscience and a sense of right and wrong buried within you, just like Harry Potter did..._

_Sorry, but I have FREE WILL and I don't believe in you._

_Sure, you have free will. You can choose to be evil, like your father, or you can choose the path Harry Potter chose. It was hard for him, you know, after being locked in a closet and yelled at for eleven years to choose to do good deeds. Sometimes he wished for death rather than his destiny. It's not easy to do good; it's much easier to follow a dark path filled with anger. Harry was helped by friends; you, too, have friends now, who would happily help you._

_Just...shut the hell up._

_Do you really want me to? You're approaching the gates, think long and hard before you open them to Voldemort and choose the path of death rather than life._

*~*~*

George Weasley, Junior, woke up with a start to find a wand in his face.

"We don't have all day, Weasley. Where did he go?" It was Professor Snape.

"What...who..."

"Don't be thick. Where was he headed?"

"Errol?" George felt very confused.

"I don't think the boy knows, Severus," Dumbledore said, "but someone approaches who might know." 

Dobby rushed up in a panic. "He has taken young Master James, he has overcome Dobby, bad Dobby, bad bad bad..." Dobby was hitting himself with a candle-holder.

"Where was he going, Dobby? THINK, ELF!" Snape was in a terrible panic.

"I...don't...know..." Dobby said between blows, "but I knows one thing, I does, I hear...everyone must get out of the Infirmary!"

Dumbledore paused, and a lightbulb went off. "Severus, I believe our young friend may have gone to deliver James to Voldemort and that he will probably attack the remaining Spirit-children and Sisters who are all gathered together with one blow. It makes sense - the only threat Voldemort percieves, those against whom he wants revenge, are the remaining members of the Order and their children - and of course, myself, which is why it was certainly no coincidence that I was summoned.. We need to scatter everyone and prepare them." Fawkes suddenly appeared. "Ah, my old friend...please go to the gates of Hogwarts and report to me if there is anyone there in need of our assistance."

Perplexed, Snape looked at Dumbledore. "How do you always know exactly what to do? I've been meaning to ask you this for thirty years or more...would come in quite handy as Associate Headmaster, of course..."

Dumbledore's eyes had their customary twinkle for a split second before returning to the Grave Look Severus knew all too well. "George, will you accompany us to the Hogwarts gates please? And Dobby, to the Infirmary, if you please, to ask everyone to step outside and scatter a bit just in case; if you'd also be so kind as to send Professors Lupin and Black to the gates. I certainly think your punishment is sufficient," he continued kindly to the elf, "Voldemort has hoodwinked many, including myself once or twice."

If George found this confusing, he didn't hesitate as he followed his two elders out of the castle and rushed to where a child much older than his eleven years was slowly carrying a bundle in his robes.

~*~*~

Sirius was adamant. "I'm staying with her here. You all go on...get out...you heard Dobby. Get out!"

Harry and Draco looked doubtfully at Sirius. "What if they come for her? You'll need us..."

"No," Eleanor said, "Sirius is right. You need to get away and not be all clumped in one place. If Severus and Albus fail, it's best for you not to be in one place until he makes his move."

"Precisely," Sirius cried, "so do as I say. Get out. She will be fine; I give you my word, it will be over my dead body that any harm comes to Hermione."

Everyone left then, scattering for watchpoints in different places in the castle where there was a decent view of the gates. Sirius was alone with Hermione again, for the first time since he had been hexed into compliance with this awful scheme. He, and he alone, was responsible for her coma; he could blame the young boy who managed to put an Imperius curse on him that morning, but it was easier to blame himself than admit he had been bested by a child.

"I'm so sorry," he said, a tear forming before he angrily brushed it away. "You've made me weak, damn it. All I could think was how I could get revenge for you choosing him over me, when all along I knew I never had a chance. Damn, damn, damn. If I could take it back and do it to myself, I'd do it now. Gods damn me for all eternity, I'm such a fool." He closed his eyes and laid his head on her heart, letting the tears come.

"Hmmm," said a small voice, "at least you realize it now."

His eyes flew open and his head shot up. "Hermione? Am I dreaming?"

She smiled weakly. "Not unless I am. But there's something important I have to tell you, Sirius."

"Anything..." he trailed off. "Wait. My head was turned. You couldn't have seen me speaking about being an idiot. You..."

"Apparently," she whispered, "whatever charm you used, worked. I can hear. But not only can I hear you, I can hear Severus, and we need to get down to the gates. Now."

*~*~*

"Thomas," George said, "think for a minute. What are you doing? That song, you played it for me just this morning. You said it was your favorite. Imagine. Do you really think John Lennon was talking about a wonderful world united under Voldemort?"

Thomas rolled his eyes, aware his father was close enough to be watching their every move. He could not betray his growing suspicions about his father's motives and his needling prickle of conscience eating through the years of hard life. He had to be strong. But the voice insisted that it was too late, even as George was trying to reason with him.

_You've already shown that you are a child that can rise above, Thomas. Today, when you put Sirius Black under the Imperius, you gave him the exact instructions on how to put her out of commission, certainly, but also you knew it would restore her hearing. Your father told you of that spell, it had been in your family's vault for years after your grandmother had developed it. He told you because he thought it was funny that Headmistress Granger suffered from a curable malady, and that he wanted to keep that in his arsenal for bribery or blackmail down the line. Voldemort told you explicitly to give Black a different curse, never dreaming you would have passed on the right information. Why did you do that, Thomas?_

_None of your business._

_You like her, don't you? You see in her a mother that you never had; someone to take you in and care for you, regardless of your past. You know how close she is to the orphaned Harry Potter. You wanted to give her a gift._

_Whatever._

But deep down, Thomas knew this was true. Unwittingly and unbearably, he wanted to do something...good...he thought he could achieve his father's ends while helping her, and no one would be the wiser until it was too late. 

This should have been simple, Thomas said to himself. Friendship and caring were never to enter into it. 

But he was having more and more trouble channeling his anger, fear and hatred. A pull towards the good things that he'd never thought to have started when he stepped off the Hogwarts train and was sorted into the wrong House.

*~*~*

Snape and Dumbledore hung back in the shadows, watching the scene unfold. Snape kept whispering, "We go in and get James now. I don't like this."

"No, my friend," Dumbledore would say, "let this scene unfold. Voldemort cannot get into our gates without an invitation, and his son is not close enough to do so. Let Mr. Weasley talk to him; I daresay a child his age, as bright as he is will do more than we can as crochety old adults with an agenda."

This is what Hermione overheard, that caused her to realize that her son was in danger. How she could hear, she didn't pause to think in the panic that rose in her at the thought of her child in danger; she made Sirius conjure her an air-chair to ride in, and he pushed her at top speed towards the gates.

"Even now, the child struggles," Dumbledore said. "Remember, he has a piece of the Spirit in him since he is Tom Riddle's exact double. Tom twisted that gift into a dreadful curse, but this boy has the chance to choose his own destiny. We'll go in at the first sign that Mr. Weasley is not getting through to him."

"I believe I'm in charge here," said a new, distinctly female, whisper. "But thanks for coming, Albus. I'm the first to admit that I don't want to do this alone."

Two heads, one white and one dark, whirled around to see Hermione floating in her air-chair, with a contrite Sirius Black behind her. Snape rushed to her side, and dropped to his knees to kiss her. Sirius stepped away, offering his place to Severus.

"How did you know..." Severus began, but Dumbledore put a hand on his arm and indicated the exchange taking place at the gates.

*~*~*

Voldemort stood at the gates, scowling unpleasantly at how badly the plan had gone awry. He knew that the elf had scattered all the Order of Benevolent Light witches and their offspring, making a quick kill much more difficult. And his bargaining chip, the Granger boy, was a tantalizing 20 yards away but inside the gates. What the bloody hell Thomas was doing talking with that Weasley runt...he couldn't hear...but Thomas had stopped moving and had not invited him inside.

"George, I'm sorry I Stunned you...I have to go...I can't talk now..." Thomas was in a panic over what would happen to him; he'd endured a little Cruciatus at his father's insistence over the summer to "toughen him up". While he had maintained a stoic presence, he'd simply wanted to kill the old man afterwards.

_How could you have so much hatred for Voldemort and still be his monkey boy?_

_SHUT UP!_

_I don't think you really want me to shut up, do you? Listen to George. The Headmistress will forgive this if you stop now, and you will be among friends._

He had no answer. So tempting, to lay down this burden...

"I surrender," he said, before he knew the words were escaping. Emboldened by the sudden rush of freedom, he yelled, "DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU ARE NO FATHER OF MINE, TOM RIDDLE! I SURRENDER!"

A scream of fury emanated from the gates; fortunately, Harry Potter had moved surreptitiously around towards the gates and was able to lock his wand onto the shouting and put Voldemort in a Full-Body Bind in record time.

"How many times do I have to defeat you, maggot?" Harry said, kicking the bundle at his feet. The dementors Voldemort brought with him had fled, knowing that their opponent had no trouble finishing them off and sensing that their benefactor had just met his doom.

Hermione rose from her chair and walked unsteadily on Severus' arm to where Thomas stood with the flush of uncertainty. James was just waking up on his own, and looked worriedly at his mother and father. "Where am I?" Thomas said, confused.

"You're home, my son," Severus said, hoisting the boy up in his arms.

Hermione held her hands out to Thomas Riddle. "And the same can be said for you, Thomas. You have just done a noble thing. I'm proud of you."

As Thomas flushed, George scratched his head. "Who is Thomas?"

~*~*~

Much later, at an impromptu celebration in the Great Hall, Sirius came over to Hermione.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "so sorry."

"Oh, do shut up, Sirius," Hermione said softly, "I have you to thank for a great gift..."

"No," he said, "you have Thomas Riddle to thank. He put me under Imperius and told me how to do it."

She clapped her hand over her mouth. "The prophecy in the Riddle diary! Her grandson did cure me. Fascinating...I will have to talk with him and find out what he knows."

Severus walked in, after having put James to bed for the second time that evening, with Dobby once again in charge after repeated assurances that no bad men were coming to overcome him again and that they were not angry with him. He spied his Headmistress across the room deep in conversation with Sirius. Briefly squashing down a surge of jealousy, he waited until she was alone for a moment before approaching.

"What did Black want?" Severus growled.

"Say my name," Hermione said, leading him to stare at her.

"Why?"

"Just say it. Slowly. With feeling."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hermione," he said, drawing out the last syllable for emphasis, "what is this about?"

"I heard you telling James his night-night story," she said, "I hear everything you say."

"You...hear..." he stumbled.

"I hear perfectly, and oddly enough, I hear you when you aren't with me. It's going to take a little getting used to..."

"Are you saying I have to thank Black for something?" he said after regaining his composure.

"No, really, you have Thomas Riddle to thank." She smiled. "I delighted in hearing you and James together. I can't express to you how amazing it feels to hear again after the years of silence. I was frightened, at first, but I will become accustomed."

"We really do have something to celebrate," Dumbledore said in her ear. "Magnificent."

She looked over at young Thomas. For the first time in his life, he was acting like a normal boy; playing Exploding Snap in the corner with a group of Gryffindor boys, all up well past curfew for the special occasion. "More than one thing, I think."

"You think the third time's a charm?" Harry said, walking up. "Are we done with You-Know-Who yet?"

No one could answer his question.

~*~*~

Later that night, Severus and Hermione made love again in their hideaway in the dungeons. Eleanor had given the Spirit back, but was staying on; apparently her relationship with Sir Nicholas had taken a turn for the serious. Hermione felt whole again, and Severus kissed her from toes to head very slowly, saying he had a lot of making up to do for years of being a bastard.

"I don't think you'll catch up, but it won't hurt to try," she said with a grin.

"Do you like having children?" he said seriously. "I always hated my students, of course, but I find I'm very attached to James."

"He is wonderful," she yawned.

"Thomas will need strong parental figures," he said. "Lupin is his head of house, but I was thinking it would be..."

"Yes," she said as if reading his mind, "yes, we can speak to the Weasleys about him. George is like a brother to him already."

"Or we can provide that stability," he said lightly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting we make our family arrangement more permanent?"

"Yes," he said, "I am."

THE END

_A/N: Thanks for hanging in and for all your encouragement!!! Yes, I see the sequel hanging out there waiting to be written. I'd never intended this to be a trilogy, but I suspect it might end up as one. Please be a responsible reader and review....THANKS! _


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